I put color on walls, then leave
and let light tell its own story. Strange
how our vague ambitions lead
to such particular situations, like these white overalls
with the brass clips, this collection of brushes
and buckets. It was never my intention
to join the order of caps and rags,
but here I am.
One summer evening I knelt in a shed
cleaning brushes. Light streamed through the splintered boards
and I was there to see how it landed, how it made
the shovel and the rake and the dirt floor
all count. I stopped and listened. Wind
swept dry grass against the dryer siding.
The sound was as close as my own breath
and my kneeling went deeper into thankfulness
for this strange and lonely craft
which makes me love so many things.
~ Robert Arthur Lewis "The Painter"
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