Sleepy Afternoon, 3:10 P.M.
There is art in the word heart and it is in my heart as well
Creating a recreation of one of God's most lovely handiworks is a miraculous undertaking
The sun's taking a bite off the chill outside and I'm in my studio taking the age off an old toy the puppies are napping... one has his head on the back of the other like a fur rug they decorate the corner of this room "Nutty buddy and Nickel"... my faithful dogs and two of my favorite things back when I was a wee lad and the ice cream man came with lilting musical alerts to his frosty presence on an sultry August day plates disguised as Styrofoam palettes dot my workspace brushes like punk rockers with Mohawks stand ever so stiffly in a contained environment till they can lash back graffiti style on the next canvas that crosses their tempera-mental space red paint swirls in a small tornado of color converting clear water in an old mayonnaise jar to a scarlet reservoir a painting freshly done shows me a place commissioned that I've never visited but have captured forever on french paper work sits all around me awaiting the transformation of an idea into the reality of a buyer's smile and some legitimate cash thus my poem ends as the paint dries and the sealer faces applications and this sleepy afternoon heads towards the next step in an unfinished work
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III