Pastels

unexpected rain-
flowing into the gutter
a child’s masterpiece

mountain and sky-
colors blended
on my canvas

Stone

northern white cedars-
the cliff face of ragged stone
falling to the sea

out of the fog-
a grand tower
of sun bleached stone

Crows

on a twisted branch
outside my window a crow
in the black of night

india ink-
an ebony feather
is my quill

Smith

muscle and sinew-
soot stained and glistening from
the heat of the forge

shimmering heat-
the cold ring of
hammer on steel

Music

rhapsody in blue-
the crush of humanity
just outside my ears

the subway shuttle-
a ragged busker
bows his violin

Wood

the smell of sawdust-
practiced hands work the gouges

turning wood to art

ocean waves-
driftwood rests
among the shells

Broken

late autumn sun-
rising waters crack the ice
from an early freeze

a white canvass-
fresh gesso broken by
crocus blossoms

Writing

crimson veins of ink 
bleed into the blotter from
my old fountain pen

guttering flames-
reams of paper
absorb my words

Sunset

warm evening colors-
wet oil paint dry bushed across
this canvas of sky

evening skies-
clouds blend into
the autumn canopy

Puppeteer

up above the fray
just outside of the spotlight
he tugs on the strings

a rumpled hat-
his marionette dances
for loose change