Abstraction

Abstraction.

Drab and dreary splatter
shares its bleakness,
the day filled with the cool distaste of the sky,
and panorama reduced to a stonesthrow.
Looking up is painful, each raindrop
hitting its eyeball target
with pinpoint accuracy.
Where is God’s wondrous landscape
his Lancia or Constable inspiration
in this condensed vista?

Swirling mists shut down the senses
and even Turner shuns the task.
But here, below,

in disregarded footplace,
I see the artist is still at work,
Jackson Pollack beneath my feet.
God does abstracts too.