beauregard afternoon

A French breeze teases through the garden trees
that shadow half-done paintings standing here,
where I, who would learn drawing, take my ease.

I should be working:  What to do is clear,
but How and Why elude my grasp this year.

I say "this year" as if some future day
I'll yet discover how I too can play
the magic notes real painters all can hear
and capture on stretched canvas or in clay.

I take my ease and tell myself, "Next year."

Beauregard Afternoon appeared on the Poetic Peaches and Dreams website.