48” x 34”
Oli on Canvas
A Propitious
Where the earth-crust breaks and the stones lie steep and stark, A curtain of water, pure and white, begins its arc. From a high shelf of shadow, through fissures deeply worn, The river spills its heart, a liquid light new-born.
The rocks, a tapestry of midnight, moss, and gloom, Stand sentinel and bold, giving the torrent room. They wear the ancient story of heat and heavy rain, Their faces dark with shadow, glistening with the stain Of ceaseless, rushing passage.
Above the frothing rush, where the bright air is still, A patch of vibrant green crowns the unyielding hill. And there, a figure rests, in crimson and in white, A quiet, seated witness to the elemental might.
The blues of the sky are scattered, broken by the height Of the sun’s triumphant entry, a blinding, golden light. It is a place of power, of thunder turned to grace, Where every drop that falls renews the timeless space.
“Propitious”—a blessing whispered in the stream’s cold song, A moment held in oil where the wild things belong. The canvas holds the echo of the water’s ceaseless sigh, A deep, cool place of solace beneath a boundless sky.