Paintings

As I lay there naked beneath a crisp spring breeze,
I stare through a sienna tinted portal.
I seek to the skies and recognize a trail of condensation from a mechanical bird,
softly drawn thick and straight.
It is then that I come to witness mother earth’s rotation,
as this chalk smudge creeps behind a suburban gutter.
As it does,
It beautifully transforms.
Dissipating into a visual sound wave,
soft and forceful.

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