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when a cool summer day

feels like early autumn,

the dew point is manageable,

and there’s a tease of a breeze

under sunny, pale blue skies,

I’m that wide-eyed 10-year-old

staring up at waltzing clouds

conjuring up audacious adventures

and mysteries I alone might solve,

heedless of the world beyond,

and each of its stark realities

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a burgeoning stream runs down

the middle of the fairway

scattered twigs, leaves & branches

carpet the patio floor

promised blooms of cheery marigolds,

their flaccid stems

slouched over now in defeat

tumbled chairs, tangled chimes

the wet bulk of lush greenery

pervades the gloom of the storm’s fury,

its straight-line winds & heavy rain

and yet, there shines a glimmer

of recompense as light rims

the receding gallery of clouds

and we know that soon

sunshine will once more warm

the tops of our heads,

soft breezes will again delight

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she thinks in terms of color,

texture, line and symmetry

though she’s drawn, sometimes,

to the charm of the asymmetrical.

she sees an image in her mind,

then tackles the brush, the paper,

her watercolor paints

as she endeavors to create

a happy infusion of heart & mind,

hands & soul & the subtle curiosity of sight.