When We Paint

There is a place
that we know.
It may be a wall of gray fieldstone
covered with German ivy
shadowed in late afternoon,
silhouettes for an inspiration.

Along a path
and to each side
there may be burgundy roses in full blossom
struck by sunlight
filling the air with sweet aroma
where we walk as if on clouds
to brush the sky.

Beyond a canvas on an easel there is a pond.
We are quiet as swallows air dance,
but this will not be our work
nor the children playing with toy boats.

The question comes to mind
of painting present or past,
the future seems just too uncertain,
as we think about the remnants of fallen trees

we decide to paint our portrait young,
what everyone would love to see.