Charlene Long - Dreams of Possibilities

Continuing to be inspired by the poems of Pauline Johnson, these paintings also reflect my mindset during this time.

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Your upchurning waves downcrashing	The sun's red pulses beat	Up on the hills against the sky	Here's to the days that are coming

Summer is lying asleep today	The pine trees whispering	Through branches gaunt and black	That her fingertips are dusting

And calm embrace of silence	Into the crimson portals ajar	In clouds of colouring that run wine-like along the rim of day	A gusty freshening of humid air

August is laughing across the skies	Like a breeze through branches sifting	Another day set free	I hear the call of the singing firs I

I hear the call of the singing firs II	When the firs finger faintly on the strings	The firs, weirdly black bare that stand with great strength	The dawn, grey garbed and velvet shod, is wandering everywhere

The Northern Lights dance down her plains with soft and silvery feet	Yet I am not alone . . .	Solitude	The Morning Trees

From Boulder Unto Boulder	Sing to us cedars; your voice is so lowly	Waiting for the Storm	The plover's passing wing, his lullaby

Sing to us cedars; the night wind is sighing	And here's to the days that are coming	As coming suns dissolve the dark that veils the edge of day	Before the Storm

Purple shadows tell of dawn	Of great cool drops that fall with sudden splash	There are fires on Lulu Island and the smoke uplifting lingers	The cedars chanting vespers to the sea

Sing to us cedars; the twilight is creeping.	The rocks give shelter that the sands deny	The cedar trees have sung their vesper hymn	The Two Sisters

What of the days when we two dreamed together Days marvelously fair.	A sky of blue and grey, Some stormy clouds that play	All the day long the vapours played. At Blindfold in the city streets	Framed in the salt sea winds

Waves that foam and fall and lift	Night of mid-June — in heavy vapours dying	And April dawned with suns aflame	As sinks the sun within that world of wine

The long, long night has been bitter and lone but now 'tis gone	Longing for Daybreak	And a crystal garment o'er her	Dawn lights her candles in the east once more

The silence of the sands when tides are low	And she - between the ocean and the town	My ear can scarcely catch that whispered note