For Paul Cézanne
Your condition transports me to a healthier place
Shadows slip off easels
and places change
and depths change.
like changes in physical state
my depression unclouds
Natural selection
in artist days: short miracles.
Shifts to light pervading
and colour planes
of spry colour.
like liquid becoming solid
I feel the ground again
Brush strokes of intention.
New scene structures
follow the old,
perfect natures.
All seen through the apertures of a master.
Mont Sainte-Victoire
glows with eternity.
so does my very being
Matisse and Picasso
play in your field.
They dream of your condition
until it becomes true.
I won’t ever depart your field.