Silence, Trees, Weather.

Cloudy Sky

Salton City, August. Weather coming in, I hear the thunder getting closer. I hope it will clear before I go out for an arts meeting this evening!

Yes, 9 days since I blogged – I’ve been on the road for most of those.  I have seen a lot of skies, a lot of roads and was astonished by Mount Shasta – whose awesome beauty I was unprepared for.

While I was in Bellevue, WA, there was a lull at the fair, during which I was able to add to my list of sonnets.  One step further to that bucket list item.

Tree Work

The upper leaves spread up to gather light

The lower leaves reach out to seek the sun

The branches stretch and grow with all their might

Until leaves redden when the summer’s done.

The colorful flowers that bloomed bright in the spring

Are now brown crisps around a precious seed

that wait for autumn’s winds to find their wings

and fly to other grounds that might just lead

to sprouting from the earth when spring returns,

to rooting and to spreading and to growth

into a new tree; life’s desire thus burns

for life itself will not succeed with sloth.

Look at a tree and it will show you how

To plan tomorrow just by doing now.

 

Another sonnet.

Sometimes it gets quiet at art fairs.  There is often a bit of a lull around lunch time.  If I’m sitting at the back of the booth at the desk, I’ll often use the time to work on my bucket list item of more Shakesperean sonnets than Shakespeare.  Flagstaff was productive and I was able to write a sonnet each of the three days.  I sometimes have to search around for inspiration, Saturday’s inspiration was the nest of sparrows within tweeting distance.

Sparrows

The sparrow has more color than you’d think

(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)

and though they seem to flit off in a wink

the observer sees the little things they do.

Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand

and often in a puddle from the rain

with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and

the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.

The well-trained ear can spot each different call –

the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep

the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill

and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.

So if you ever thought sparrows were plain

Take another look and listen, think again!

Another sonnet.

I’m still working on that bucket list of writing more Shakespearean sonnets than ‘The Bard’ himself, and sometimes a quieter hour at an art fair can be productive.  Will had the opportunity to write about sparrow, but didn’t, though I don’t think he would ever have seen some of those mentioned, they just weren’t available there!

 

Sparrows
The sparrow has more color than you’d think

(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)

and though they seem to flit off in a wink

the observer sees the little things they do.

Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand

and often in a puddle from the rain

with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and

the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.

The well-trained ear can spot each different call –

the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep

the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill

and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.

So if you ever thought sparrows were plain,

Take another look and listen, think again!

Primroses

Oh wow, just noticed it’s been so long since I’ve had time to blog.  It’s been a really** busy nine days.  But, in this I was able to write a poem when I was the art fair in Litchfield Park, AZ this weekend – about the primroses in bloom in the desert currently.  (Yes, I’ve been taking walks instead of blogging….)  And another sonnet towards beating Mr Shakespeare in his number of sonnets.

Brown eyed desert primroses

The one that got extra yellow…..

Desert Primroses

I never knew that primroses would grow
so close together through the desert dirt.
Amazing that from down there they will know
when one rain will be many, and they’ll spurt
up to the sun. Each little yellow face
so like their cousins from cool, wetter lands.
You would not think they’d grow in such a place
but there they are, amassing through the sands
wheat thick! I cannot walk around but tread
on primroses, most pale, but in between
one got some extra yellow for its head
to stand out from a crowd like none I’ve seen.
A wetter year has grown a primrose lawn,
but they’ll be battered down in the next storm.

A brief poetry reading

This lunch time I will be reciting a few of my poems for the Borrego Springs Art Guild luncheon.  It has been a while since I have been able to attend, so I was thrilled that this coincided with being asked to read.  Beth selected four newer poems, two of which I’ve previously posted on this blog and two are sonnets from the Bucket List item “Writing more Shakespearean Sonnets than William himself”.  This is one of the ones that I had time to write on the quiet Friday at Cave Creek a couple months ago.

Arborial

I only wish to grow up in the sun
and spread my leaves to catch delicious light;
to harbor birds when resting from their flight
and push my roots down, down it is such fun
to find the water and the food of earth
that complements the vapor of the sky.
What if I don’t succeed? I must still try
to appreciate the world that gave me birth
and praise the god whose name I’ll never know
who did decide to make a verdant tree,
just one of who so happens to be me
who loves to sway and branch, make leaves and grow.

I pray that men will never cut me down
so I may long, long wear this leafy crown.

Work in progress…. complete

crimson ribbon, refractured watercolor

“Crimson Ribbon” – refractured watercolor on wraparound panel, 34x36x1″. $1720

Here it is – I named it ‘Crimson Ribbon’ for the line of red cloud running through just above the center.  I also decided to go with writing a poem specifically to go with the painting.  I have long loved writing Shakespearean Sonnets and this painting was certainly big enough to accommodate one.  I painted the words in the clouds, for the most part to be similar colors to the background.  I like to do this so that if someone doesn’t care for the poetry, they can stand back from the painting and ignore it.  I figure about 15% of people who come into my booth will notice words that I put on a painting without my pointing them out, though it also seems that once they’ve found them, most people like the idea.  Another reason that the refractured watercolors especially can be enjoyed at close range as well as at a distance.  Here’s the sonnet.

Crimson Thread

The world is turning into dawn, and I
can see a crimson thread start to appear
announcing that the newest day is near –
it makes me greet the beauty with a sigh.
Soon the ribbon’s red will turn to gold
and other wisps softly to scarlet turn –
water, under influence of light will burn
such colors that it awes us to behold
the transition from nighttime into day
and cause to wonder how we could deserve
this vision – just for living on a curve –
and leaves us without words that we can say,
only the thought that perhaps we should do right
to earn the reward that brings the end of night.

I expect this painting will first see its outing at the end of the month at Mission Federal Art Walk in Little Italy in San Diego.