Oscar rose before first light
to capture the sun’s
play upon the field.
There he stood, with his brush
at ready,
to steal the running sun’s
play upon the field.

With a loaded brush, he
played upon his field;
laying down the morning,
laying down the even,
laying down the season,
from spring to cold hiver.

In the rouges of the morning,
in the harshness of the noon,
in the azure of the evening,
he stole the colors of the sun,
he captured in the nineties
his time for everyone.

© rl busséll 2018

Stacks of Wheat (End of Summer) by Claude Monet – 1897 60 × 100 cm (Art Institute of Chicago)