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| "Olive Trees At Collioure," Matisse, 1905 |
Where do we find the extraordinary?
Seldom in black tie and tulle, behind news desks or in our palms.
Earbuds and head phones scare it away.
No, the extraordinary likes the outdoors best.
It likes waterfalls and geysers, old-growth forests and thumb-sized red mushrooms.
It's in shadows of cedars on snow.
Where children play and trains whistle.
The extraordinary doesn't like crowds and cocktails,
Humble brags or dropping names, "likes" or thumbs up. No not there.
Sometimes it comes indoors where lovers keep their promises and lie entwined.
Or into words that startle.
It's in the voice of Maria Callas and the soul of Puccini.
Artists find it and poets. And then like God they give it away.
Nina Naomi
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