Before any site and any object, abandon yourself to your first impression.
John-Baptiste-Camille Corot
I imagine him looking, seeing,
caught up in the muted browns,
feeling the gentle arcs and sways
of tree trunk and woman.
Hearing whisper of wind, rustling leaves, and
the back and forth call of pond dwellers
seeking companionship in the fading light.
I picture him closing his eyes
imprinting upon lids the languid beauty
stretching before him, a ripe fruit
to be plucked and eaten, sweet juice dribbling down his chin.
I see his eyes open and, with impatient and eager haste,
he pries open his kit, taking brush to color
in a mad hatter’s dash to capture what is fleeting.
So present in the moment, he doesn’t notice
the flit of a nearby hummingbird
or the first flick of the fireflies as they begin their dance.
Published in Nine Muses, May 2020