Water Lilies Disturbed by My Rowboat
oil on canvas
I was a young child and we were somewhere, I have the vaguest memory it was in Missouri, maybe a botanical garden, and invite lay at the shore, a rowboat and endless beauty curving through reeds in front of the invitee.
I was at first frightened for this fragile brilliant color that sank below the surface at every paddle’s reach and wake. But there it came, returning to its cloistered place behind us, held by an invisible complexity of roots and trails and communicating life.
The ship was low and flat and broad and green. The water dark, so dark, and sentries of high stalks, reeds bound the bank in narrow stillness inviting us in and closing up where we’d been in black green shadow.
A strong experience of youth, a hot dank, a steam of perfume, sensual in every way, and the tremble of it continues through these misty decades.
The Levitating Bather, oil on canvas
The bather has found a nestled spot near home, and has the good sense to bring a chair to view the scene and when tiring of that, the ability to fly above or into the paradise. As do we all, actually.