EXPRESSIONISM

Through thin walls
of my studio
painting and writing
my jazz poetry
once in total darkness
of a November's
blue Wednesday
sounding out
at my windy back
the burgeoning breath
out of a melancholy mood
into a sanguine open sea
making sure
the anchor
of my orange kayak
is safe from any storm
as the first light
of Fall's brief labyrinth sun
keeps us warm.