A walk with Monet
can you feel the passion,
the blank, lifeless canvas of Winter
Can you smell the air,
is it not the maelstrom of
ancient ritual performed
year after year...'white magic'
or the longing,
when cloaks of purple velvet
cuddle sopranos of season
singing prose to the Earth...
be reborn and rule Queen Mother,
widow of a dying king,
consort to a realm of ancient beauties...
lustrous and regally charged...anew
mistress of your craft...
'tis a fine representation,
frescoes of rainbow hues
alight human passion,
of Pagan ritual perhaps,
but no less picturesque
then a Raphael...
you stir my soul with serene beauty,
be born again,
There is nothing quite as beautiful as a perfect lilac bush in full bloom, regal indeed, not to mention the glorious bouquet that wafts through your senses, should you catch the drift of perfume floating on the breeze...lucky girl to witness!
Well, it's Sunday again in Australia and we're all back for the shadow shooting...check out
Hey Harriet for the rest...talk about fun.