Impressions on ‘The Sheltered Path’
by John C. Mannone
I perhaps owe having become a painter
to flowers … I must have flowers, always,
and always. Even here at the edge
of the woods, the scarlet poppies
amongst the Argenteuil poplars.
I do not see the forest for the trees
and also not the tree or its forest
of leaves, instead, I look at each leaf,
its glob of color, its own geometry,
and blotch of shadow. Then I look
at the next one, and in between:
here is a little square of blue, here an
oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow.
Another subtle blob, a delicate dab
of blush with a fine-tip paintbrush.
Another stroke of chlorophyll-green,
and those sprayed with sunlight.
Paint it just as it looks to you, the exact
color and shape …
I would like to paint the way a bird sings—
a symphony of color, tone, and hue.
I’m attentive to each one of the leaves
of the hundreds, but I don’t paint all
of the rustling noise before I zoom
out of the sheltered path in the forest.
I simply want to marvel at the universe
of leaves, the enormity of the galaxy
And of course, the quiet flowers.
What keeps my heart awake is colorful
Author’s Note: Italicized words are quotations of Claude Monet