With the sky as his canvas
He holds a palette of light and moist vapors in the crook of his right elbow
He uses his breath to pour out subtle hues on the edges of clouds formed by his left hand
He strokes the sun to ever so slowly lift its light and he calls forth the morning
He stands back and admires his handiwork and lets it slowly transform
He adds shimmering tones of violet and lavender in multiple layers then sprinkles it all with the golden light that pours from his puddle of sunshine
He swirls a finger through his masterpiece to scatter clouds across the eastern horizon
And touches the tips of the mountain range with sparkles of gold and silver
He blows a gentle breeze across the pristine blue water that pours from his artist’s enormous brush to become the rippled bay of sapphire
He fingerpaints the distant islands into the edge of the vastness of the sea
Smudged outlines far in the western sky
He tips his head back and lets a delighted laugh fill the sky with birds then turns his head to see the perfect spot for his deep pink and purple crocus to be placed among the flowerbeds waiting to be awakened at the sound of the artist’s voice
He paints with wild abandon in every shade and tone and hue
His heart pours its fullness into details unseen by anyone but him
He sets his palette aside to admire his creation
And submits another sunrise to the gallery of eternal mornings, pleased at his handiwork
He sighs and starts planning for a brand new sunset
©Belindabotzong2018
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