I have been wondering where my next painting will come from,
When I’ll feel like picking up my brushes again.
I don’t force it,
Inspiration can come in waves, or drops,
It trickled through this weekend,
First, a glimpse of a dusty canvas,
A feeling that I’d like to play with paint on it,
But not knowing what the subject would be.
Then, brightening up breakfast, goldfinches on the bird feeder.
Later, out birding, I glimpsed a tawny owl, roosting in a tree.
I watched a kingfisher, blue and orange among ochre reeds,
It caught three silvery fish while I watched.
And then, through my binoculars, a close up of branches and yellow lichen,
Mossy greens, rich browns and an idea takes shape,
The perfect background on which to paint