Echoes of Theron
John Clare Stokes
I walked along the sloping sand
Searching for the impressions of his easel
Holding his painting
Of the Suwannee.
It was here the artists like Theron roamed
Here that I was inexplicably drawn,
To catch but a glimpse of how he mixed the
Ochre and the cobalt
How in the end the blend of earth, God and men were so perfectly wrought.
It was here the tripod marks of Moran remained
When images emerged from
Darkness upon emulsion
The kindom of Kodachrome lasting long after our
Digital transience
The dodge and burn of earth, film and men eternally.
It was here before us all
The Timicuan dwelt
In every rock, tree and ripple their spear marks felt
And so like us, they embarked on downstream
Out into that Gulf immortal
Awaiting for the consummation of man, artistry and Suwannee.
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