Morning at the Met

Morning at the Met

Beyond the stillness and shadows of wooden frames
sat upon the grassy fields looking homeward bound
Christina dreams of worlds to come

Still silent open space
mute soft pastel color and sensitive line
between delicate beauty of loneliness and sadness
the silent notes do play

To touch our hearts and move our minds  
he creates for us to do so too
yellow golden cornfields wavering in the breeze
gleaners bent over baskets of translucent grapes held to a flaming red sun and perfect blue sky of day

With soft spoken paths they stride
old men with withered lines and stone grey eyes
hold hand of children flying kites with dragon tales  
dance without a care on green rolling hills of morning glory

Soft muted tones of pure lit hues a golden leaf dances a
silent tune upon a glistening pond
crystal prisms of light in a joyous celebration of colors consume the
canvas of life in this garden of delight