To the lower left corner, a stone
At the top, right, a mountain
From one edge, to the other, a river
Questions enter my head whenever I see a painting
What lies behind the stone?
What is on the other side of the mountain?
Where does the river go?
In the lower right corner, a bush with red berries
On the upper left corner, a bird with bright yellow plumage
Nestled between the Mountain and the river, a little of in the distance, a log cabin
I sit and stare
Absorbing the rapture, the tranquility, and the questions
Are the berries on the bush eatable?
What type of bird is the bird with the yellow plumage?
Whose cabin is that on the mountain?
Centered in the painting is a man
Oh, If only I could meet this man, I could ask all the questions I have
Of the stone and the mountain
Of the river and the Bush
Of the bird and of the cabin
But I cannot
For what lies beyond the frame is subtle imagination