Wild With MisT

Wild with mist the Turner paintings shine

Upon the walls where I will stand and gaze

Embedded in the wind and water

Emboldened by the sight of other worlds

I wander through the softly spreading sunlight

Into another, and then another world

Seeing the heads of whales,

Seeing the ships of night

Sighting places Turner went to paint

Slipping into deep waters, worlds much traveled,

Sightings that would save the

Wind, the water and the sea for me to dwell in

Drinking coffee in the lovely old café,

Dimly lighted as I sip my café a lait

Reading the guide book to this old walled museum, pitted with wind and rain and bullet holes from

Some old battle in the streets-

That lead down to the waterfront where whaling ships of old sink in water to their

Knees, like whales impaled on hooks of rusted steel and drowned in blood

Upon the black harpoons

I tip the waiter and go back to gaze

Upon the white misted scenes

That leap like Visions from the canvas of the man

Who had a lover in a little sea-swept town

Near London

Mr. Turner in his fine black hat and unclouded eye who spied the magic in the water’s mist

Among the ships

Wild with mist the Turner Paintings shine

Upon the walls where I stand and gaze