A strong subtle sound,
Like that of a brush whipping
A canvas ‘long around midnight
On a quiet night,
When stillness is still growing
And the paint is flying
To and fro, back and forth,
In soft little explosions of color,
Is a night such as tonight,
Where solitude is painted in hues
Of green and gold; a happy sprite
Hiding in a corner and a fairy princess
Riding dragonfly wings singing
out a song of sweet vidalia purple.
-18 January 05
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