“The Artist”

Her hand moves so quickly

Its almost as if with the passing of her hand

Color appears out of nowhere

Like white magic

But her paintbrush is hidden there

Beneath her talented fingers

With steady concentration she studies the board

Looking for perfect placement of the next stroke

Her nose crinkles as she tilts her head

Muttering softly to herself

Twirling the dripping brush absently

I sit quietly, trying not to be a nuisance

When she suddenly turns to me

Asks me what to do next

My mouth gapes and I stutter

Searching blindly for a witty suggestion

Nothing

I bite my lip and she laughs

Smiles

Thanks me anyway

She taps her head with the brush

Reaches to the pallet and swirls the fine hairs in color

Drenches them in a pale blue

Looks for one more moment

Before plunging in and touching the canvas

Wet paint smears in coordination

She twists her fingers

Moves her wrist

Its finished, she announces

We both smile in satisfaction