Vanishing Vistas

I have stopped looking long at Vistas

Where before I would stand and stare
like a painter en plein aire

I have despaired of preserving any image
of places travelled, sites seen

And must be content with impression

After all, the Impressionists understood
it is vibrant shades that resonate in recall

Not the actual aspects au naturel
but broad strokes, as an epitaph

So, confronting the extraordinary
I now but drink a draught

And move on, fearing the melancholy
of departure, of incomprehension

Paths untrodden and senses unsated

For the fullness of my eyes
leads only to the still gaze

Stillness is in some measure death
and I am quick

Reviews

[Lisasview]

Oh my goodness,
First read of yours and I do love it.
As an artist I so enjoyed the use of your words and the oh so powerful meaning.
I have gone back now several times to reread your words.
And, each time find more meaning...well, at least for me.
Lisa, now in Spain