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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