Drawing the Birds Back Into the Sky
· The Atlantic
I don’t mean as in when you place your hands
the way your grandfather did, fingers just so
that when blown into ducks would fly
from reeds and sedges, and the assembled
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hunters in brown canvas would raise their arms
to the call, and fire into the unsuspecting flock
of iridescent greens and reds, shimmering blues down the backs.
I mean as when you pick up your brush and flat board
and mix just the right emerald for the mallard
because you must do this, you must ask:
How much color can a palette hold
to hold up the sky?