wet brushes

wet brushes
 
open palms
 
walking beside reveals grey to grey
eyes drinking rain, one answer to thirst
 
color undresses, a falling cloud
 
robin’s egg blue, witness feathers
above canvas line-of-sight, on my cheek
 
standing in glass, water
 
dried paint becomes memory
laying down, here’s one stain
 
legs measure first day fog
begin to swim,
 
although you’d think, uphill
 
how do the handles lean?
toward, or away from you
 
bristles splayed arms wide
 
 
neil reid © 2014 january
 

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