The Waning Light of December

In the fading light of snowy December mornings and twilights I am in the barn with my horse Sakebu, ( Bu for short). I muck, feed, blanket, and groom him. I talk in gentle whispers to another being who nickers and nuzzles and looks at me with a beautiful soft liquid eye as I quote poetry to him.  This activity frames my day in the studio.  The barn is midway between the house and studio off a long steep driveway.  The past few days I have been sharing Whitman’s words with Bu:

Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul,

Jane Hirshfield, in her recent book; Ten Windows – How Great Poems Transform the World writes:

When the shape of the outer alters, the inner must shift to meet it, or we will be left in broken incoherence inside our own lives.  A good poem turns fresh ground to meet fresh need.

I wonder if my paintings can do the same?  Can a good painting
“turn fresh ground to meet fresh need?”