Weather is the answer
When I can’t go out into flowery places
Weather is my wonder
About the kind of morning
Hidden behind the hill of sky
Hilda Conkling

I usually pick out poems that somehow relate to the art, whether through color,  feeling or whatever. This one, don’t know why I chose it, the poem doesn’t even make sense to me. Hm, maybe that’s why, life was a little chaotic at the moment. Food for thought. Does your life come through when you create?

Happy Monday.