Jeremy Frost
Plein air Sunday
I walk into Sunday’s garden, barefooted,
weekday’s grime left at the gate.
The morning is sweet with the coolness
of night, puddles in shadows seeping deep
into brown-black earth, van dyke browns,
rich with an undertone of red
color my brush dips into,
the afternoon a canvas I dream on.
Ponte Vecchio, Florence, Italy
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