Battlefield Painter
The painter plants the brush, sprouts a shrubAtop the hill, beside a tree, beneath the sun:
The cannon roaring, the metal clashing
Is but a lull, a murmur to the concentration.
The conflict engulfing the easel gose unsensensed,
The eye breathes in the distance,
The hill-top, the tree, sun balanced above,
On the horizon, in the distance, withn the canvas.
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