The poems are birds...

The poems are birds that arrive from nowhere and land on the old book she is reading, among flowers, by candlelight with a cup of coffee. They have no landing place or port. Acrylic oil painting with airbrush with splatter or marbled effects.

In an intimate, warmly lit room, a woman engrossed in an ancient, weathered book sits amidst a lush bouquet of vibrant flowers. "Poems are birds" floats gently above the page, as delicate avian figures with ink-like wings alight upon the open book and scatter across the petals. The scene is bathed in ...