Artists gather together
at the Great Supper.
Waiting to be placed on the map.
From cartographer to explorer is their path.
A great gathering
before the adventure begins

Like a jacaranda tree,
slow but heavy reward.
They wait for their intuition
to come to fruition.

The world is filled with art.
I look down and the rocks match my pose.
A little river flows
between my toes.
I look up at the clouds
and symbols come marching in.
Even names are art to me.
Language. History.
Rock faces, trees, birds, numbers, MUSIC.
I wonder sometimes if I’ll suffocate?

To avert suffocation,
I create.
For every breath in,
is a breath out –
a thank you.
To beauty,
to ugliness,
to life.

Artists wave their wands, I mean brushes,
and the transient becomes eternal?!

Christmas is surely everyday.

The Dance is on.
Perla Bird is hosting.
Thou art an artist too.