Rhythm of the Cherry Tree Blossoms 2010

You've taken a hold in my eyes,
What a surprise,
Those blues of the skies,
Kiss the pinkish folds of all the different size,
Even the blush of your petals warm the honeybees,
Throughout this beautiful cherry blossom tree,
The challenge is on in the parade of this land,
Springs breath will summon back winters hand,
As one will pronounce that perfect moment below the blossoms,
The caressing winds that release and a shower of pale pinks to toss them.

The Clock within the Spire 2002

I have seen the crown once more,

Their secret no longer kept,

More lost history,
Created by the greedy,
Its neglect hidden in their back lot of rebuff,

My respect moves me to reflect,

I, amongst many others,
Worked around that proximity,
Took retreat in the cool shade below,

I recall the clock within the spire,
Its movements of precision,
And lovely tune in a song of chimes,
Even travelled across the waters to my sanctuary,

In those days its beautiful erect tower,
A body adorned in fragrant red cedar and inspiration,

One could feel the hot sun hurry us about,
Our break would hold us firmly to the tranquillity of this square,
Some could feel the attraction for this unique clock,
And my fondness for this artifact of my past,

Became a faded dream,
Only revived by this watercolour vision.

The Picnic at Alouette Lake 1994

This painting of the cantaloupes still brings back fond memories. That was the time my family and myself picnicked at Alouette Lake. I completed many watercolour, charcoal and pencil sketches and studies of this still life that day. But I especially enjoyed painting this in oil. This fruit became a delicious dessert for us later; what a pleasant day we all had at that lake surrounded by those beautiful mountains.

Bluebells and Larkspur 2006

The blues have their hold in my eyes,
What a surprise,
Bluebells and larkspur tease the land,
Just a bouquet of elegance,
Competing for attention,
Their fragrance of such delight,
Shining brilliantly in the moonlight,
Dawn will bring forth more blooms,
That the springs warmth will nurture,
And the dark chalky soils,
Of Hazelmere will not spoil.

The Shades Of That Sweet Harvest 1998

Once the shades of that mirage had lifted,
"What is this illusion that I have seen?",
My memory would challenge my heart,
I heard the song once of a nightingale,
It filled that open meadow with tune,
And left my heart crying with joy,
But the warblers prepared for their chorus,
Sincere but a faint reflection,
Soon the voices in melody of girls laughter,
Soared in such merriment,
And they'd be engaged by the sweet harvest of those rosehips,
Even the hush of the Pacific breeze couldn't compete for their attentions,
Such a wonderful presence,
The sisters of confidantes,
Smears of another thumbnail sketch would defy my charcoal impression,
And once again the shades of this mirage would lift,
It would only seem later,
In this vivid sentiment,
'The romantic journey of a visionary',
I love knowing the Human Spirit of Joy,
Has reunited everything that exists,
And all that is witness to the calm of that sweet harvest.

Towers of the Skies 2002

My whole being in this Cypress Bowl forest,
Would search for a new seeing,

Send me a message,
I would think to myself,

The peace is beautiful,
My mouth would restrain from revealing that message,
As for the listeners would pronounce,
Perhaps a scandalous refrain,

God,

And I do believe in the almighty,

Send me something,

Inspiration,

Or merely a sign,

Heavenly sent,

The guardians of this land are silent,
The firs will watch and contemplate,
Pines just renounce my apparel,
And the aspens distort the sunlight and try to blind me,

This glorious place below these towers,
Reaches to fill that creative void,

I have begun to settle down now,

With the comforting sounds of the porcupine quills,
Scraping a melodious tune along the boughs of the firs,

And this watercolour which will fill my Soul.

The Goldfinches Rally 2008

The springs deluge,
Would hamper the motions of this meadow,
Sound out goldfinches in flight,
And pass by in sweet formation,
They love to rest and redress,
One especially enjoyed my work station,
It perched on that mountain ash entwined with the wild strawberries,
Those robins and chipmunks had feasted on those delectable morsels earlier,
My sweet yellow jacketed friend,
In your black and white feathery trim,
Your song is so poignant,
As is the preparation of your departure,
My deal with you for next time is,
A small feeder,
In which I shall hang from my easel,
I hope that will keep you intrigued by my side.