The Painted Veil

The trees beside the fast freeway,
those fields past the fences,
with a cow here and there
and an electrical grid.

Fields of grass,
no houses or people,
perhaps a boring freeway sign -
an empty cigarette box.

Just dirt and sky.

American,

Native American,

African American.

Is it just a field?

How many walls hide

what is truly in those fields?

The painted veil

is the nicest ruse.

Who walked those fields?

What will happen to those fields?

And then a store...

And a college...

And an airport...

Like the sky; emerald blue.
The clouds; milky white.
Rain falling on my windshield
What goes up must come down.

And oh, how it comes down.

But oh, nature...

The Ultimate Painted Veil!

A field needs rain,

Like a brush needs water.

A field needs lightning,

Like a painter needs a heart.

A field needs roots,

like a draftsman needs composition.

And a field needs a story,

As it is sometimes walked upon.

Can you stay in the sky forever?
Can I come up to see you?
Without my body?

If the veil is not made of surface,
Nor can looking for it see it,
Nor any scientific terms,
Then perhaps it is painted.

so enjoy the beauty around you.

SMEETS