October 7, 2009


PortJoli8em

A week of glorious skies-

Day after day, the mortal tries to immortalize.

Some days, I almost succeed.

Painting the colourful cloud-filled vistas

Also means being prepared for light mists

Or a deluge of rain.

When the air smells of moisture,

I take my hat off so that I immediately detect

The shift into ruinous droplets.

When it showers,

I turn my little painting upside down,

I hunker on my stool,

And wait.

Wait for the air to clear,

Or the rain to fall.

In that event, I stuff my fragile damp painting

Into my pack and run for shelter.

There is a peaceful harmony about painting inclement skies.

The painter is tuned to the landscape;

Trying to capture

Pale cerulean on the horizon,

The shift to ultramarine,

The billowing cumulonimbus

In mauves and grays

That are edged with glowing sunshine.

While the painter paints,

God plays.