my eye flickers over to my son,
bent intently over a sheet of drawing paper.
A brontosaurus emerges from nothingness,
its long neck curving towards the top of the page.
"Watch me make the dinosaur disappear!" he calls out,
and proceeds to draw a thick black marker back and forth
across the page, bottom to top.
Chained to my meeting
where we discuss the design of teaching guides,
I can only watch, helpless,
as the dino drowns in inky quicksand,
and wonder at art created without attachment,
like the sky at dawn and dusk,
dazzling works in colour
obilerated by white clouds, inky skies in seconds
by an artist who sees no need to sign a name
or save for future admiration,
supremely confident that all he creates will
by nature, be a masterpeice.
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