Alice (who is my artist friend)

She was sitting in the middle of the grove

A traffic cone by her right elbow

A strange sight.

One that baffled and made me curious.

As I walked up to her, I saw

Watercolors in her hands

A sketch book in her lap

She was painting

It’s easy enough to get a perspective

But a struggle to paint it as it is

Or even as I see it

She remarked

She moved over to the next dusty road

Her perspective on the orange tree shifted

Much as moving my point of view

Would change my embrace of the world

Would her new perspective change her art?

Would she be able to paint the orange tree?

As she wishes she could

Or would she move once again

To the next dusty road?

(Painting by Alice C.)