Vast blank canvas of a harsh land
hung tattered at the top from ice pole
and stretched below along a single latitude
taut into the framework of two oceans.
The seasons try their colour schemes here
always springing summer on us in passing
falling forever into winter sleep
between the skeletons of elms and maples
leaving the ground whitewashed so shroud bleak
it chills the light to the very bone of stillness.
What artist dare raise his vision from the dead
centre of creation against this dinosaur indifference?