Wild Yellow Marsh Irises along the Nicomekl River 1996

We all plunged down along the soft lushes banks in the spring of '96,
Traversing into the shallows near the rivers edge,
As the blood hounds wallowed clumsily and jostled into our bodies,

Only the greenish-grey waters of the Nicomekl gently kissed our heels,
The painting party ventured out with individual bags of colour and liquid expressions,
And lay claim to their particular views which I found everyone especially breathtaking,

An open-aired joyous interpretation tantalized us into silence,
And the work of that quickening day begun,
A rocking motion created by the breeze moved the bag perched in the centre of my easel,

The tree swallows visited our sight,
With playful aerial dances they especially glided by our hands,
Curious to the motions and perhaps wanting to assist in dappling a wing into the palette,
And leaving their mark on the canvas board,

I wondered if they would accidentally fly through the composition,
Into a make believe world of hope and beauty,

They played and fed on the insects and made sweet tweaking sounds on every swoop,

Hours past by and marsh irises and the river appeared and lived on that surface now,
One would never want a day like that to end but the clocks ticking on,
And the inevitable task of packing up began,

Some of the other members would destroy their own moment with every critic,
I, on the other hand loved that painting and change nothing,
As it was the study of a moment along the Nicomekl,
On a perfect Spring day.