I saw a picture being drawn.
Thick charcoal lines
enveloped wiry blue gems
as the artist scratched away.
The rough outlines of hair
crumbling away at the edges
so that when the light delicately lands on the canvas
the rigid black blends into a smooth hue,
and the blue dampens;
altogether more soft.
At first it all twirls and winds across empty space,
chaotically throwing itself and twisting as the artist takes a step back to admire the dangerous work,
this picture though wild
when set in the sun
with the soft glow of the sweet summer air
and seeing what a beautiful landscape has unfolded before it,
the picture smiles,
pulls back the frizzled black lines,
and the blue gems dazzled by the hills on the horizon,
dampen, wash out, like cobalt spitefully shining under morning’s temperance
become one and the same with the sky above;
my heart began to flutter watching the transformation from such daring rigidness
into the soft, delicate facade
And it has never stopped.