Looking and Thinking
It’s late, I’m awake making coffee Looking and thinking, thinking and looking Letting my mind ingest what will sooth it What will calm it What will speak to it in hushed tones Like a lullaby to a discontented infant Allowing what’s viewed to take hold of my imagination As it did the artist from whose brush it came I’m looking and thinking, thinking and looking Wondering what made the hand of the painter first swish Where she found her great boldness to dip brush into paints To be a vessel for light to flood through her being In this menagerie of coloring poured out on her page I’m looking and thinking, thinking and looking Over hundreds of colors so vibrantly blending In patterns, in swaths, in endless seas of beginnings I’m looking and thinking what she must really see Staring at her blank canvas untainted by mark or etch Preparing palette for the flow of vitality that finds her In small nuances looking for a place to express itself I’m looking and thinking, thinking...