Paintings can arise from visions, from prayer,
from a friend’s smile or from cedar roots
I stumble over while walking in the hills.
Hearing a tattered raven dialog with wind sets me off.

Peering into a hollyhock pod - that circular container
holding one seed stacked exactly after another -
jolts me into a particular silence
where colors fly like birds.

Images emerge, nets flung
to catch the uncatchable,
that wild changing freeness that can’t be held.
As I water the zinnias
a green hummingbird brushes my finger
then settles on the hose nozzle
opening and closing tiny wing feathers.

Brief glimpses lead me.

Standing at the edge, I look in all directions
spreading hues to open doors.
When I see in this way I am also seen.
I generate a breathing latticework of clues.
Dancing in the rhythm of my drum blood pulse,
I retrieve what I already know,
offer praise with each true shape.
The living river helps and guides,
sweeps me along so fast
it is all I is all I can do to live honoring it.