Ah, what a perfect May day.
I lie on my back,
my arms folded behind my head,
I see a canvas of blue. And with my mind’s eye,
I begin to paint. Only one color exists—white—
but my imagination begins to construct
a world of fancy.
There is a form long and narrow—a structure of some kind
and over there
a caravan of strange animals
who approach the white pavilion in a hurry,
driven by some invisible master. They catch up
with each other, blend into each other, change and become different. Arriving at the white structure, they become part of it and, magically, become something different and marvelous.
by Diana Siskind