I

Black brushstrokes
within yellow-gold grasses
become breeze-shaken

shadows; a wild
stillness in motion.
The moon curls

in aquamarine; above
pink, gray and blue-white swirls
of cloud. The eye catches

a few bright patches
within the dark-leafed cypress.
Two pillars; as one would bless

each breath with starlight.

—

Painting here. Thanks for reading and looking. I still aspire to be a middling poet.