I hang my brushes

as one hangs dried flowers

that once held colors

dried within day's hours.

I would wish to take

the stubble from the beard...

the stiffest that one I could find.

Of course my plucking might seem weird

However, I have a plan.

I will take this growth from a chin of a man.

Then, gather it carefully in a clump.

Brush to makes when in a money slump.

Lightly, dipped in liquid color,

Smeared as a sky of blue and white.

A work in progress I should not bother

till it dries over night.

Add then in spaces blank,

The meadow green and poppies red.

Beyond is a muddy river bank

with giant willow touching a fisherman's head.

Take what my  brushes has dipped,

gently add wisps from the hair.

And upon the last space carefully tipped,

gentle highlights on wet water.

Now, to convince this man to be clipped,

"my procedure will not be much trouble".

A battle lost, a painting waits

For money or man to lend brush stubble.