The Painted Picture

The painted picture
Isn't the picture I painted.
I painted: constructivity,
Living with one's mistake,
Making the best of a bad situation.
I painted an cubicaless rubric
Explaining what the solution for X is.
I painted a reflection.
I painted an inspiration.
I painted some work.
And the expression of it between sky and earth.
I was trying to paint ecology at some point, too.

But what I see and feel is just this turnip
Slowly drying beside my near wet paint brush.
That will return again to my blank page
When the ancient Romans again crash into the Moon,
For my turnips are living things...
And nothing is like as it was before
When all was Jerusalem artichokes and Bell flowers.
May corn one day be perennial and wheat, too.
I shall maybe paint a potato or two.