Each time I pick up a brush and stare at a blank canvas, it is like taking a step over a cliff and trusting a stepping stone will appear under my feet. I try not to grab onto anything, at first, but let the colors and textures, rise up around me. It is a different way of seeing and listening to possibility.
So, an abstract conversation. I like the sound of that, the feel of it in my finger tips.
At first light, my heart is surprised and delighted. A blog is new, but as a poet I kept a journal going for years, writing to clear my mind before setting my heart free. We'll see where this will go.
The Journey, a poem
Poetry and Bouquet #44
Nov. 10, first blog post. Sitting with turkeys and deer, flowers and melancholy.