There’s something of life in the picture –
dull, dreich mist over storm-dark hills, the lift
of the water as it leaves the canvas,
the peek of light through the foreground
break in the clouds.
I feel wet sand between my toes,
watch eddying rain watering down
shy sunlight, hear the splash of sea
on rocks, the pull of currents.
Wind fresh in my face, drawn into
the scene, I drown in the lake
of a painter’s imagination.
Reposted from May 2006 and previously published on the Sound and Image issue of Online Poetry Journal.
Meanwhile over on Shapeshifting Green I've reposted another poem from 2006, you can read it here.