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The Calligrapher
March 5, 2010
You look and see a garden of flowers,
All leaves and vines and petals.
Black ink; an odd, yellow sort of paper.
(Look close: a cat hides beneath the juniper)
He sees four hours of practice and work.
A million speckles of ink on his favorite shirt.
That spiral, there, near the butterfly net
Took such a long time to perfect.
His picture is hung there, for all to see,
But each takes only what they want it to be.
© Alice B., Sarasota, FL
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