Brushes Hair Up
 
a book of poems lay next to the easel
paint tubes without lids were nearby
 
brushes hair up in a jar on a table
waited for the artists' next try
 
paint on the palette was useless
as a radio played low in the room
 
sending out crackly sounds
as the artist swept with a broom
 
an empty canvas sat on the easel
waiting as time ticked away
 
to hold lines, color and form
and maybe be seen someday
 
but the artist had given it up
he figured he had been wrong
 
to think he'd make it a go
searching for truth took too long
 
and he figured to pack his stuff
in boxes and give it away
 
except for the book of poems
that told of the cowboys who stay
 
so he sat down and read them again
and the words ignited a flame
 
of passion for work he must do
cause a heart of the West can't be tame
©Steve Dirksen