Selection at the RA
Under every weather: Skies primed by rainbows, Clouds lilac from a thunderous sun, In light as white as paper Jack followed his vision from plane to plane.
Back home, he hauled out his screens, Strung up curtains, re-made Past drawings to serve the ascendant paint Till suddenly all images agreed And fell serenely inside their singing frames.
Next month the selectors, practised in art Un-tuned to Jack's, with eyes quite other, Peer when his works are carried up.
Dry glances cross and hover.
Then Jack's bright cries of hope are bustled out.
With time, he feels towards the world again; He follows light along hedgerows, across paved paths, Finds happiness in trees, the voice of the grass. Jack questions the morning; Absorbs the scene; lifts his straw hat down; selects a brush.
M. Hoyland
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