A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman. With Puppy.

She does not hope
She plans

Life spins its web within her and by her
and she enjoys the earthy feeling of sand
the cold of water between her toes
the salt air

She throws a piece of bread into the sky
watching the gulls swoop down and take it from her hand
she laughs as they dance in the wind
squawking birds won't quit


Building castles
Her black and white dog jumps at the chance
to stick its dark nose into the sand
It comes up
a white dot echo of bozo
She laughs
and calls out

Her voice carries downwind
The dog makes a mad dash to her side
and she is just as happy to let it run off again

She is happy.
They are happy.

It is that one moment in life.
Where everything makes sense.
Because nothing makes sense.

We paint with simple strokes
Watercolors forgive

She returns home
And tunes her Cello
to the memory
that the tune matches place
and sound - tuning to a hall should always be different
than tuning to a chamber

And Plays
East of eden

Drawing at once in a paintbrush of sound
and phrase

A lemon yellow sun
In rainbows

Memories of green
A portrait of the Artist
Standing on a beach
A black dog.

Overhead a bird flies
Motionless on sunlit wings

We say farewell
to the fog.