While the fiddler drives, I like to paint. Problem is, the car is moving so fast through the landscape that all I capture are fleeting shapes and color. So rather than write a wordy blog post, dear reader, I give you some classic 5-7-5 haiku with my little sketches. Happy Tuesday afternoon!

Traveling, I paint
wet brown hills fading away
from town cloaked in trees.

The yellow grass, wet
but not yet green, dreams like birds
of El Niño rains.

Two rocks rear above
the road. Wet, the big rock’s head
bleeds to meet the rain

The last pass. Fly down
fast past a parked black-and-white.
Play invisible.

Dry furrows cross fields
newly plowed with hopes of rain
that falls on cities

How to paint a tree?
Edges, texture, size and form.
What’s seen disappears.