NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-three

Thirty-three degrees
Night rain glass beads on car door
Late April morning

Still dew illuminated
Fog flowing soft over hill
weighted by stillness

top step creaks with frost
Morning, chill fog expanding
gold floods the hillside.

hidden birds waiting
quiet hillside wrapped in fog
trees golden with sun

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty

I think there’s a little more of this but tonight my words seem all pushed away…

Laying paint film by glaze by blotch
reveling in the occasionally brilliant stroke
seems to have pushed away all the words.
Driving home, I admire the fields golden
still and at the edges overlaid with
a bluey sort of lavender greyish
the difficult white shrub the glowing pink
and in my mind I see the paints mingling
on the broad palette yielding to the brush
reviving with a drop of clear water.

NaPoWriMo, Day Nineteen

Had this notion on the way to work about the color of the world seeping up toward the sky in spring but on the way home I saw my first of the wonderful white flowering shrubs that to me really speak to Spring’s official arrival.

After four, maybe five months of the sky
throwing down sifts and squalls and bucket loads
of snow and more snow and piling it up
in the normal fashion of New England
And it seems to many deeper and more
snow than it has to be to make a point.
Miraculously it all vanishes
but the woods stand brown and empty awhile.
The earth at last yields color to the world –
the new grasses shining in golden light
treetops pink and impossibly yellow
waiting for leaves to burst summery.
Shrub rows of white petals wind-tossed laughing
spring flecks falling across the joyous sky.

NaPoWriMo Day Fifteen

Nature forgiven
in an april afternoon
look – the daffodils!

The wind plays with them,
the daffodils brought today
in April’s madness.

Warm yellows cool greens
generations of leaf brown
today, daffodils.

NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen

What happens when you look at the morning sky and wish you could paint a blueness just like that.

Dark deep endless
the sky last night filled
with stars and planets and myth
This morning, a blue bowl –
a perfectly executed wash
saturated zenith fading
subtly down to the horizon
where the hunter hides
in the shade, cooling his dogs
and himself until night returns.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twelve

Haven’t you heard the effect of peepers zooming by in the night?

I wanted to write you words tonight
driving home from work, after a movie
but I watched the world instead.
The highway rolled by, familiar,
random red dots leading me on,
behind, beads strung across
the mirror, those urging me on.
In town, a sideview glance
confirmed the green as I passed.
Why do I always look?
Then miles more of two lane but
the old car’s rumblings can’t
conceal the Doppler waves of peepers
passing in the springtide.
In the dark driveway,
April uncertainty shrugged off by
Orion, he sits on the rim of the world
pondering his journey while I
fetch the mail and go inside.

It Followed Me Home From The Clark

I went over to the Clark. My intention was to maybe climb the hill an sketch or paint but that didn’t happen. I went in, got banded (LOVE being a member! support your local art org!) and wandered around looking at paintings. Mostly favorites, but I did look at some of the Dutch genre pieces (very cool) and I looked at part of the Looking North and South exhibit which was mostly drawings and printed material. I saved that for another day because I ran out of time before the movie. Like any movie venue they run little announcements of upcoming events, remind you to look for the exits and not to eat in the auditorium etc. When the feature started though, it was so quiet that a good portion of the audience kept right on talking… They finally settled down.

Visually I, Claude Monet was beautiful, often morphing between real landscapes and views to the work of the artist. I didn’t know anything about his biography so there were parts that were interesting, all told via his letters to others but it seemed to devolve into ‘my life is miserable, the painting is hard or impossible and I need money.’ It was all done with a single narrator, which didn’t help. Monet did have hard stretches of life especially in is young adulthood, but I would have liked to know more about his thoughts about the work of others or other’s reactions to Monet’s work etc. To put it better, they could have made him more three dimensional.

I might watch it again given the chance because I was warm and sleep-deprived and my eyes wanted to close. I fought this because the views were gorgeous and seeing the paintings that large was wonderful.

When it was over, I went back through the building to get to my car and this book leapt into a bag and insisted on going with me. Whatcha gonna do?