Cezanne's blues

turpentine and linseed oil

brushes made of horsehair

the smell of oil paints

take control of the air

so many colors to decide on

so many textures to choose

so much living goes into

looking at Cezanne's blues

the mountains and the ocean

the fields and the sky

the houses in the valley

all live in Cezanne's eyes

all beauty is a mystery

in rich and tender hues

you can see the world go by

when you look at Cezanne's blues

my hands are misshapen 

they do not know to touch

my fingers are all awkward

I cannot hold a brush

but my heart can see the power

it knows it cannot lose

as I wonder at the world

I see in Cezanne's blues