"his self and the sun were one"

(15x22)

My iris was fast sinking in upon itself, so I did these practice sketches just to make having picked it worthwhile.
There's one in full bloom right now in the yard (for some reason, I get lots of foliage, not many blooms), but I hesitate to pick it as I won't have much time to paint this week.
May 11-15 is my workshop in Rehobeth, DE, and I have two jobs to complete before I go ... not to mention all the other things, beside painting, that one must do!

Thank you everyone for your comments and well-wishes on my little exhibit. I haven't been over to see it hung yet; feeling a little trepidation, but I'll go in the next day or two.

Even though National Poetry Month is over, you can still receive a poem a day from the American Academy of Poets at Poets.org.
For some reason the middle stanza of this poem came to mind today ...


The Planet On The Table

Ariel was glad he had written his poems.
They were of a remembered time
Or of something seen that he liked.

Other makings of the sun
Were waste and welter
And the ripe shrub writhed.

His self and the sun were one
And his poems, although makings of his self,
Were no less makings of the sun.

It was not important that they survive.
What mattered was that they should bear
Some lineament or character,

Some affluence, if only half-perceived,
In the poverty of their words,
Of the planet of which they were part.

Wallace Stevens