I am a bird

I am a bird

The forest was my home

It brought me peace, nourishment and a place to rest 

My wings. 

Forever aching from the long days search for this place to reappear

Out of the darkness - clung to the stale air like a sleeping bat

Swaying with the draft, along side the others 

Waiting.

But my tired wings, they tremor while I sleep

They feel things I cannot think 

The flight of my dreams is shouting to my soul

Defeating my fatigue with electric charge

With the warm breeze - my eyes open to see

This place is real

My wings brought me here

I am a bird. 

The wind is my home

My talons cling to this dying branch

The sweet smell of the North bids me farewell

I embrace the current, my wings stretched as far as they can reach

And the wind frees my spirit once again

I glide up and far away from the last moment

I am a bird, I am home.

LH 

Happy Valentines Day.

Of love

In front of you

I sigh

My breath searching

            for a place to rest

Beyond the past

You stand tall

And lead my memories

            Through despair

            And aching

With a tender heart

            Your eyes

Console my weakness’

            With laughter and youth

Familiar kindness knows

            You just know

Me

Your eyes

            Caress my skin

            Charm my soul

            Bring me home

To tell a tale

            Each day

The fairy tale

Of us

Our story lives

            Inside

            And out loud

Of love.

LH.

You would never know it to look at this painting, but it is the sum of many months, and many moods. It has been my go to painting for the staggered moments I have spent in the studio over the past 2 years of my life. A symbol of my painterly limbo while I work on my children's book, 'Little O'.
It started out as an exercise to loosen up my mind, to release the tension I would bring with me from my busy, scheduled life.
The many layers of paint that coloured this canvas were decided on at the very moment I sat in front of that immense drawer full of colours.

Once I had haphazardly applied my paint strokes to this piece - with whatever brush was first at hand - I could work on other projects with freedom. I would toss it aside and move on to my 'real' work.
But now I feel that it is something more than a punching bag for my brush and paint. I feel that it represents what I strive for in all of my work. Honesty.
Each layer was created in the moment, and though these moments have not always been pretty or kind, there is always another layer of truth that awaits. There is always possibility and mystery in each new day.
I have left this painting titled "Blue", but it is not finished. I think I will keep the name, but it will continue to change and grow, just as I do.