Art comes to the back yard
beginning with flush of ideas, now objects
combining color and shapes, light &
dark across the fence. Need texture.
Eventually an abandoned swallow
flyer nest gleaned from beneath
garden eves, sticks & the stays of
hand-honed kayak form sculpture.
In the yard, brainstorm elements.
Jimmy. Finagle. Snip, wire & nail.
Kneeling to glue egg in nest, we study
low clouds to west. Sun pounds through
menacing clouds, storm heading our way.
Noon long gone, our creation emerges
out of Spring forces. That happens.
People run in the park, work in gardens, a
quiet neighborhood, dog and cats leisurely
resting in the sunshine. Sudden clouds blot
sun and temperature drops. I run inside
the house as rain starts falling and wind
unleashes, stirs branches and new leaves,
velocity increasing. I grab yellow onion,
wield knife, slice & brown roast in butter.
X-ing from outside to studio, you paint,
Youngbloods singing Let's Get Together.
Zoning on Sunday, lovers making art.
Nancy Canyon
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