Dainty brush sits; lit canvassed cloth;
Colors arrayed on odd shaped pallete -
dip into shades with paint bristles soft,
beginning the portrait of drooping day.
Fingers twirling, with eyes discerning -
hues to stroke across the empty face
of earth’s countenance waiting serenely,
a whispered breath to hush human race.
First browned stroke of flat landscape
Then sunny rays across surface break -
Slow glow of orange, yellow, and gray;
A dab and a touch, wipe day away.
Smeared white there, cotton wisp here –
Clouds build from a spot, to a smudge,
Artist’s hand flicks across a wane smear,
Though to human eyes, a perfect tuft.
Pools reflective trace land’s straight edge,
Reeds and grass blades displayed across
The liquid mirroring a portrait of sunset,
As the vivid tints fade into ground’s frost.
God gazed down from His high artist’s seat,
-Swirled spatters adorned King’s regal brow-
and spoke the words aloud, “It is complete…”
Master painter another masterpiece done.