a painter’s jaunt.

the trunks are splashes of henna

sprinkled paint flakes of grey and green lichen,

.

little splats of ebony mark older henna painted trees

marring them with fire’s past like the artist was angry with his wife

for burning dinner, smoking food, and 911 calls

.

but new green comes with spring time love,

winding over black wounds like band-aids,

ivy criss-crossing, hiding flying feathers;

relationships behind backs, hearts, cardinals in the trees

.

splashes of water, a wandering stream, white on top of cerulean,

reflections, angles of light, bouncing off and back into his eyes

sliver streaks, flashes of fish running from predator and current

.

the painter walks on paint of sorrel and russet

specks of dirt, intermixed and blended on the palette

before dabbed on to his path.

.

his brush, an extension of his arm,

bristles, his finger tips, nails full of paint,

spreading color upon all he touches;

his entire world.

 

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