The blue eye of the painting
looks out at me guilelessly.
There are windows of sky,
some sunny and one
dark with storm clouds.
Green leaves fall brightly
past the panes, and a yellow
(this is Autumn) and some red.
Red tiles frame the glass.
I set this down, each element
as it strikes me, thinking
when I have accumulated
the small pieces of description,
like a jigsaw they will combine
into clear meaning. This
does not happen. It wasn't
in pieces anyway, and the whole
painting, undisturbed, smiles at me.
Written for Bits of Inspiration, day 22 of April Poetry Month at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. We were asked to use this painting for inspiration.
