by Robert L. Ferrier18 Sep 2014
We race the dusk
as sun fires the cirrus
crowning the river woods.
We clutch cameras and dash for the car
she warning me to watch the road
as I glance west and gauge the chance
to catch the burst of burnished light
revealing a hazy fine dust
the settling remains of day.
When at last we arrive to shoot
God’s canvas pales by the second
each shutter stroke rendering
a high scrimmed blue
blushing to burnt copper and gold
clouds shifting their pose in minute drifts
losing their etched lit base
to a diffusion of charcoals and grays.
Later I dare to improve perfection
saturate bronze to gold
crop those wisps of clouds
or deepen the deepest blues.
Then I cancel all my meddling
of The Master.