Wyeth Sky

Wyeth Sky

N.C. Wyeth sky, cobalt and cumulus.
Cotton candy, billowed snow,
thrilling show in a big top circus.

Giants stride through ocean waves.

Children watch, amazed, as Crusoe
swings upstage to colonial caves

in search of Magua and Monro.
Robin Hood wakes old Van Winkle,
up the Brandywine they row

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flanked by native Navajo. In vain,
these fabled men did not restrain
the saddest Pagliacci pain,

over Chadds Ford landscape, dynasty reigned.
Too soon cut down by a racing steel train.

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Willow, 2009

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I love to call a deep blue sky with huge puffy clouds an "N.C. Wyeth

sky". We had a glorious one here in Ohio earlier this week and it

inspired me to write this poem. It is speculated that Wyeth's tragic

death in 1945, at a local Chadd's Ford railroad crossing, was a

suicide.

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And, hey, did you notice I slipped in Pagliacci? (click for recent post)

Opera's on the brain this week!)