Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Lit up

We’d passed through the rain and fog on Unaka Mountain.

Now, in East Tennessee, the clouds were breaking up

And the sun setting was lighting them up like some

Dutch master agog with pushing mad paint.

Vermillion, cadmium orange, with ultramarine blue

Of the afternoon sky floating above it all.

Payne’s gray, raw umber, lavender, mauve, the white

Of some angel’s snowy robe.

“Ain’t nature purty?”

Nod. Nod.

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One thought on “Lit up

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