Poem: Plein Air

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Ikea has no idea
No museum’s art is no more contemporary
Than this sky
Right now
Experiments with shades and hues
Oranges and blues
The canvas above me
Surrounding me
All-arounding me
Art du jour
A study
A series
By a master
On display
Plein air art
Gracefully mounted
In my heart

About the poem:
I only found out recently that there is a thing called “plein air” art, that is painting outside. Today, as I made my way home from Zumba, I wondered why do we strive to find and buy pretty stuff, when we can simply look up.

What a show! With the front range stretching for 100 miles from north to south, it’s impossible to capture it in a photo, but yep, I’ve got it in my heart.

 

 

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