Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth—nor
so remote a thing.
It is a field of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand’s span
of her whiteness.
Wherever his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over—
or nothing….William Carlos William..Queen Anne’s Lace..
The few that are left in the hollow near the tree are losing their white fluffy tops to the wind….
Taking the lovely Queen Ann’e Lace to almost full abstraction…I love painting it in all it’s guises..Toronto, Ontario, Canada…
Watercolour on Arches HP Paper
You might enjoy these other collections…just click the links below…