Garden Sprite


acrylic ink on crinkled Masa paper collaged and mounted on w/c paper, 10 X 11″

garden sprite, bloom miss

your fingers in every inch of green

one day you sow

next day you sprout

next day it rains and you

don your blossomy bonnet 

dance through the wet grasses

singing your ancient fertility songs

your brush loads with fresh pigment

colors drip off your fingers and bleed from your feet

fragrances rain down from your open mouth

you cock your ears to signal frog choruses

and bird symphonies

garden sprite, spring’s favorite emissary

It is that time of year again when I wish I were a wild animal and could spend each day outside.  Instead my days consist of errands run in cars and chores in the house and studio and brief tastes of blossomy, green grassy, muddy earthed sweetness in the in betweens. It all happens too quickly, this sudden bursting out of life, as though there were some mad caffeinated conductress orchestrating it all, with no compassion for those of us who would like to savor each moment.

I’m heading off to Portland, OR for a long weekend starting tomorrow, visiting my son and friends there.


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