when
my parents went to the forests
to collect mushrooms, berries and bird songs
when my father saw a landscape, found a motif
for his water colors or his oils
I always watched the relation
between the landscape
my father's eyes
and what he then drew
painted on paper
this sort of watchful patience
that nature gives you
while you see the grass grow
birds sing for you
while the whole landscape
arrives at your father's hand