watercolor on Arches paper
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
– Mary Oliver
There has been a re-ordering of my universe.
My beloved mother, Miriam, has left. She was 96.
Why wasn’t I ready?
a little painting happened
it’s a tiny breathscribe piece – an ex-pression of grief
acrylic light-reflective pigment on textured ground,
gold leaf, dragonfly wing