Acrylic on Canvas 30”x40”x1 3/8”
The morning comes slowly, lest nature is shocked by the coming of the day.
Birds begin to rustle among the leaves, and their voices announce the harbinger of another day of life.
Long cast shadows shorten.
The wind has awoken and moves the water to waves that break along the shore.
Then the morning rushes in like a symphony.
Note: Picasso insisted that it is better to look at art like poetry. Trying to squeeze meaning out of it, one often is barking up the wrong tree........,.