a flash of the most brilliant red,

startled me awake –

flitting from the bay laurel into the sweet gum,

from the sweet gum into the oak

flashes of red streamed into my head –

promising blessings

with every streak.

but still i wonder:

would he have seemed so red,

if the sky had not been so blue.

.

Nothing is simply black or white.

(this is the work in progress that became the above painting and poem)

what is your process?

do You meditate?

do You journal?