Here in the wild place
The rocky place
Here on this canvas
I am true to myself
The canvas speaks of charms
The brush laid on
With tints in sweeps
All flourishes
And the tempest
Inside my heart of cold
Black stone
Bursts forth in waves
Of petals and pedernals
None so wonderful as these
Have eased my heart 'ere now
To be as one
With the canvas and stone
The leaves and the trees
In this wild, dry land
Is all I need to be
Free of restraints and
Gentle complaints
I soar with the mind
Of a child
My brush brings me home
To wander
In the broom
There I may find it
The next
Piece
Barbara Butler McCoy
[Photo: "Equine Pelvis with Sky," after Georgia
O'Keeffe's "Pelvis with the Distance"; sculpture
of a horse out of driftwood outside the Hunter
Museum, Chattanooga, TN; July 2009]
