A peasant with a penchant for rhyming
Based on ‘Woman with a Parasol Facing Left’ by Claude Monet.
Here, Besides
In cleansing a pigment-encrusted brush,
who turns their nails to scrape the clay-colored sands
and play with the corals that sprout from a cup of clouded sea?
Where blue bonnets can be,
who dares to wash a wonder that is a window of time
gazing into a glass-eyed girl
or stands to part the ochre shades
that exhale into a robin wind?
-Amy Struthers
How grand this vision of the mind
that pesters for a place
and lands in blind men’s buckets
as the stems that form his base.
How grand the height of humble hues-
the youth of blazing sun,
the portrait grazing purples,
and the beryl beads that run.
How grand the reach of failure
as the hands of watches slow
and pause on parted petals
in the fields where seconds glow.
– A. Struthers
