The Thought On that October day the thought arrived. It just landed, couldn’t see the direction it was coming from, light and soft, a revelation…… and I couldn’t stop smiling. I must make a painting of air… It would be titled, “Untitled.” Looking back, I wonder what was special about that day. Invisible spiders’ webs forced me to walk with bent knees to avoid veiled headwear. I closed my eyes, listening to leaves falling from a great height, catching and releasing on their descent and followed the gnawing sound of a squirrel . I thought of that line by Ezra Pound… “I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, knowing the truth of things unseen before “ and I remembered lines I had written in school about flickering maple embers, the last of the marigolds and the garden pulsing in the purple light. Scribbled in pencil on lined paper, it had rested on the windowsill until the only thing left after years of fading was the pink margin line. It was at this time of year exactly with the same low sun, when all the farewells of the garden looked their most beautiful, and Rilke’s words, “Silent friend of many distances, see how your breath enlarges all of space,” reminded me of departed friends, their laughter still lingering. Copyright © Kathleen Gaitt Then I scooped up all of those wonders into a glass jar and closed the lid. Perhaps I would only need water on my brush to draw the air as easily as drawing breath…… and I couldn’t stop smiling, because one day if my daughter has to sort through all the accumulations in this house, she will come across the jar labelled, ” Powerful Air “ and she will understand me well enough to keep the lid on and pass it down through the family. Copyright © 2021 Kathleen Gaitt Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.