A Portrait of Leslie
Out of the turbulence, out of the wild
Haphazardness of background strokes, the brush
Still finds its form and forms her face:
So full of life and, lovely, like a child
Still making her own mischief, with a rush
Of energy. And yet we also trace
A woman’s wisdom in her concentration
On the still point, the whole point of it all,
Which was and is and always will be love:
Creative love and love in all creation.
This painting finds the poet in her, all
The heighth and depth she bodies forth as form,
To find her balance on the point of love,
When lovers know there’s nothing left to prove.