Like life, paintings evolve: sometimes slowly, sometimes taking twists and turns. This painting has been in progress (on and off) for several months. Many layers of paint and cold wax, some wiped away, some added. I'm beginning to love the colors, the nuances whispering through the mysterious mist. It's a place I want to be........
The Poet Dreams of the Mountain
"Sometimes I grow weary of the days with all their fits and starts.
I want to climb some old grey mountain, slowly, taking
the rest of my life to do it, resting often, sleeping
under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks.
I want to see how many stars are still in the sky
that we have smothered for years now, forgiving it all,
and peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.
All that urgency! Not what the earth is about!
How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only.
I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts.
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall."
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