Splashed Paper

I sketch, and the lead lightly Fills the page Joining sides, from top to bottom Forming shapes, united in depiction Of visual cues, those things we know From days and nights watching land and sky. With each splash, the water soaks Each brush stroke adding more The puddles grow, they pitch and roll Within the paper they seep Buckling page, as if to stretch, Along a path toward dry. But alas soon after, the colors come Sharp pigments invading the space Spreading, they merge to form a sky Rolling hills below, a brook, and trees Finally, figures appear, who live forever Among green mountains, and orange morning sky.