It was a beautiful morning and I was in the doldrums. I stared out the window for an unspecified amount of time, picked up my charcoal, pen and drawing pad, caught the “T” to Forrest Hills. Found a secluded spot near the top of Bussey Hill. Settled under the shade of the tree, to absorb all nature had to offer: from the bicycle riders on the path below to the lichens on the trees nearby, from the butterfly in the air above to the creatures on the ground. Soothed by the play of the sun and shadow, the lovely color of the flowering plants nearby, I took up my pen and began to draw and write: A wisp of grass Began to wiggle A light breeze Or an insect The bird let me know Breakfast.