not all art requires
This morning, for example
gray hills white fields
flecked darker gray brown
From the west, blackbirds
Come settle over the field
Then the road,
always heading towards More
adds a shock of fluorescent yellow
Wordless, the mysterious black arrow
points at the artful way birds descend
or it points to all the curves ahead
Such a lovely piece!!!
This poem made me stop and think about not seeing red. Maybe it’s a good thing. Wonderful poem, Scott!