I was wondering through the woods and a field. It must have been 100 degrees. Maybe it was more than 100 degrees or maybe it was a little less but non the less I was mighty warm all over. I had seen this massive stump of a tree and it kept calling to me so I returned to it.
The tree was gone and taken to where I do not know but the stump was there. The old base of the tree was big and wide and had a hole in the middle 4 or 5 feet deep and a few feet across. I know the tree must have been so old and so tall and so very wide. I wanted to paint on it.
Now this stump, like everything else, will rot in time and be food for termites and Betsy Beetles. Then the scary other things move in and chew it up and then its dust and mud. Then the birds swoop in and eat the bugs and fly away. But before then and after the tree was standing there will be a little art for some people to encounter for a brief window of time. (Not soon enough some might say!)
Art in the woods and art in the fields and it is still 100 degrees. Someone lived here before it was a field and before that and there was another giant tree that grew here in the spot ten thousand years ago. It is gone too.
Mosquitos prey on my arms and wrists. They will always be here buzzing. I despise you little mosquito! Let me be. Let me paint in peace!
The stars in the heavens are pretty and very far apart.