Things are finally getting right around here.
Knowing No Better
In the course of one night
the ice on the lake is gone
and you've done to me what May
has done to the mountain. We set out
in the small boat, and later, on canvas,
I make its edges blur into ours.
Shadows, you say, can fool the eye
about how close a foothill may be
and yes, I see how less indigo
gives the water a less fearsome depth
and that white is white
and I won't need much. I accept
this won't be a week of animals
and that you'll tell me when I'm ready.
I agree the trees go last and if I opt
for leaves, they should be all about
the hour of dusk people thoughtlessly
pass through. I see of course that too
many changes of mind equal mud.
But pardon me, knowing no better,
I've painted too shallow a sky, even
as I've heightened our beloved mountain.
Copyright © 2008 Nance Van Winckel