Walked the creek,
With me each day, wobbled
On rocks and piles of twig, stopped
To see and touch
All that caught his eye.
While I, anxious
To get somewhere, stood watch
Tethered for a time.
Now each morning
I look for him, still
Through a small window, framed
Into the ether, open
To find from his hand,
and a charcoal stick, charging
Smoke and fire flowing, wild
Through mountains, rivers, creeks
Drawn in deft detail, daring
Across a wide white panel.
And he in watchful vision,
Balanced artfully, fiercely
On his own.
No comments:
Post a Comment