I borrowed an owls eyes
What did I see?
A vast beautiful countryside
ready for me to dance my way through.
A moon that gracefully chatted with stars
A wind that echoed in song.
A mountain tall and regal to salute.
And a person grateful
for Mother Natures ally.
The sacred Owl.

palette
russet, olive hues
yellow ochre
bird's egg blue
vastness held
within a bowl
turned over earth
to heal and hold
moisture from
the morning rain
thus the painter's
eye is trained

cadmium white
a fan-like brush
sketch mare's-tail clouds
an artist's touch
far horizon
grayish blue
a woman reclines
in the ****
her form reveals
the breasting hills
her hips the mountains
hushed and still
mid-ground
blurs of olive cacti
the saguaro
rise like hackles
Palo Verde lie in lumps
yellow flowers
bloom in clumps
point of brush
tweaks out the trees
turn of branches
stippled leaves
small are they
to catch the light
but the moisture
loss is slight
ochre foreground
brownish stones
blue-gray shadows
light source shown
grayish purple
prickly pears
ocotillo
here and there
spindly with splash of red
barrel cacti nod their heads
buff highlights
bring out the sand
thus paint creates

this desert land


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/13/2017

.
The Virginal one is a Maiden fair,
a girl adorned with long blonde hair.
Bold and brash, yet cautious and shy,
her dreams lift up and start to fly.

Raven hair falls in delicate tresses,
on the Mother of children Nature blesses.
Calm and firm, yet open and sure,
her dreams fulfilled are played out pure.

Cold and damp attack the bones,
trying to agitate the black haired Crone.
Old and steady, yet clever and wise,
her dreams forever light up the skies.

Walking through woods, warm and shady,
barefoot, confident, the Forest Lady.
She has her dreams and always will,
until the day her heart stands still.

© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)