I have never seen my image
Except as a friendly reflection
In rivers and pools.
I paint when the sun allows.
There is a moment when there is no sun.
Just a moment. Wait a while. No one
Can deny that now and again the sun's
Not there. It's true you know, it's gone!
But this is also true: it will return.
I am a man of clouds!
Crowds do not please my eye;
I cannot stand to be
Seen, as I paint them fly
By. With them I set my scene.
And what if the wind whips waves
Into white-topped cascades
Pounding the shore, the cliffs,
Breaking into a rainbow sparkle
As they destroy the work of ages?
I cannot capture these on paper.
The water and the paint have minds
Persistent in their own beliefs.
They lead me across new paths
And into ways I have not known
When I have watched the weather.
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