A recent oil on canvas…again exploring ‘cubism’ in landscape.
Beloved gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of it’s fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of it’s hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of it’s leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
From W.B. Yeats…“The Two Trees”.