Saturday, March 5, 2011

suspicious smoke

karl spitzweg suspicious smoke (verdächtiger rauch)

my eyes sweep along the valley towards the horizon.
clouds or smoke?

the early evening light angles through the shades of old butter
as i run my hands along the sun-softened wood ledge
i've swept the dust of the day down the stairs
and prayed for rain
not only for me
but for my plants whose browned leaves
seem to beckon to me
like the pages of a long forgotten book
asking me to place my watery eyes once more on their tattered edges

the night air
passes its slender fingers across my face
as i turn to go back inside


Rachel Fenton said...

I can feel the texture of these words and I love the painting you've accompanied them with. The detail on the cacti makes me want to press my finger against them. I like how your description of the wood made me remember my grandmother warming butter on the sill.

Bonnie said...

you are a stellar wordsmith steven. just lovely.

Reya Mellicker said...

Got my lizard brain stem activated. When it's too dry, when fire threatens, man, that is scary!

Titus said...

Fabulous words steven. Great writing.

Linda Sue said...

What Bonnie said! Triple that! My brother in law used to live in a tower alone in the far away woods for that exact purpose of "smoke spotting". He could not dip the forest in his tears but he did manage to save a few with his phone- not very poetic.

steven said...

hi rachel! the painting was so extremely cool it made me remember ghormenghast. i'm so glad it brought such a good memory back into the forefront of your world. steven

steven said...

bonnie - it's what i call hard play! thoughtful work. steven

steven said...

reya - who knows what that will bring your way?! steven

steven said...

titus thankyou. it's total fun - pleasure. steven

steven said...

linda sue - as well as thinking about gormenghast i was thinking about jack kerouac's book when he spent time firewatching off on his own for a summer. it might have been in dharma bums i can't remember. that whole feeling of aloneness and protecting a space. steven

Jo said...

Rich words, Steven. Rich with love and passion and sentiment and all fine things.

This is a treasure.

steven said...

jo i love this place i get to call home. for all the reasons you share here. steven