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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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 silence of the sands when tides are low	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 suns red pulses beat	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	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	Dawn lights her candles in the east once more