“paint your palette blue and gray… with eyes that know the darkness in my soul…shadows on the hills… in colors on the snowy linen land… soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand… now I understand”
driving by rote
never seeing beyond the steering wheel
something moved just out of sight
when I looked
the scenery was a blur of snow, trees, pastel sky
and it was terribly wonderful
a moment, a snapshot
a jolt from an artist I should recall more often
beyond the cliche is the truth about time
and how it passes
(italicized lyrics, Don McLean “Vincent”)
