Like Tumbleweeds

The studio’s windows
are shuttered against the light.

Cobwebs hang like drapes
from the room’s four corners.

Hardened tubes of oil paint
fill a musty cardboard box.

My easel collects dust
in a sideboard’s drawer.

I haven’t held a brush
for more than a decade

as all of my landscapes
have somehow dried up

while season after season
has silently slipped by

like wind-blown tumbleweeds
past my front door.

Photo by VH S from Pexels