Where would the artist find the colors

When he’s moving too fast to feel them

To taste the flavor

Of daylight…

To immerse in evening splendor

The smell of honeysuckle and jasmine

The feeling of the seasons like the main course

Of a meal

Its amazing how the senses all connect

All complement each other

Though we rarely connect them

Or imagine tasting the sweet viridian

Of early spring all fragrant and gently hued

Or thirsting for the autumn evening Prussian blue

A taste of burning wood and the sweet sadness

Of endings and decay

How does an artist find their colors, or feel alive

Without devouring the senses this way