This poem was published in Lyrical Iowa, 2007, by the Iowa Poetry Association
Inside, Yet Flying a Kite
Prussian blue blends with cadmium red
to create the horizon
beyond the moonlight.
Yellow ochre dots the sage green leaves,
and olive green grasses surround the rocks.
Unseen, a breeze gently hits my face,
and I hear the waves below;
Clouds behind will soon float forward
and complete the evening’s end.
It occurs at least once with every painting,
a Mary Poppins effect of stepping inside
and playing out an episode
where fantasy is reality.
Even if the final product doesn’t quite make it,
for a moment, I got it,
and the fact that I did,
even if never again,
is enough for me to put paint to canvas.