Spring Awakening

Studio Brushes

Heart beat quickens, no time to afford,

Forget the chores not yet scored,

Clear my desk, prepare my board,

Paper-clipped, pencils sawed.

Blood begins to course once more

Now dance to the tune of that familiar score.

Paint splattered clog beats wood against wood

Get in the groove, no interruptions, understood?

Clasp mittened-fingers tightly round cup

Smokey espresso wafts over the set,

Adjust subject and light for maximum effect,

And prepare to let go with materials select.

As hand and eye merge into one sort of mind

Leave a blackened trail of dust behind.

Score paper with sticks, smudge fingers through marks,

Putty out white lights from fallout sparks.

Squeeze buttery hues, mix some with sand.

Let loose abandoned caps with pliers to hand.

Dab inky puddles with twigs I have found,

Scratch out a semblance, cross-hatch into scribble,

Turn drips into dots, extend a line from a dribble, and very soon,

Covering paper sheets as pale as the moon,

A myriad of drawings about me are strewn.

Dark winter days turn into weeks, turn to months, and then

From the free flow of chaos a new order emerges

Select the best, an exhibition urges.

Caro Woods, February, 2011


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