A Poem About Light and Quiet Making

The light is good

It pours through the new windows on the east side of the house

The shadows of the leaves are quiet against the white cabinet, unmoving

It is quiet in this room, too

My son sits with Evie, our cat

And I write

My daughters are still sleeping

Resting

I am laying on the couch, it is still early

My mind wanders

I think about the kind of art I want to make

The marks and the sketches

I think about the colors

Like the crystals I saw at the museums

Soft pinks and soft blues

Very light hues

With a splash of something other

Maybe plum or maybe dark blue

Prussian?

I think of the images I want to draw

A house

Little flowers from the 90’s

Like when I was a kid.

I think of the portrait I might add

My daughter drinking from a small handmade mug

It has flowers, too

I think of Cy Twombly and Basquiat

I think of Maya Angelou and I think of Jack Kerouac

I think of the impressionist painters

Degas, Morisot, Cassatt, Manet, Monet

I think of Van Gogh the most

I think of Edward Hopper and I think of Andrew Wyeth

I think of Matisse and I think of Picasso

I think of Alice Neel

My mind wanders to the different paintings I have spent hours exploring

The books I have read

The moments I have had with other artists.

Masters and no-one’s and in-between

What have I learned from them?

My work is changing

The way I express myself is shifting

It will be different than what you know of me

It is ok

I am allowing the change

I want the change

I am ready

I am ok

Like the light

This is good, too.