A long time ago, I heard a poet (Jim Hazard, of Milwaukee) say that he was walking down the street one day and he saw three yellow pillows sitting in a window.  It struck him as beautiful, as things sometimes do, and at that moment he envied painters, because if he were a painter he could just(!) paint a picture of it and it would speak for itself.  He wouldn’t have to explain it.

I was walking down an alley in my town the other day, an alley I often walk down, and a girl I often see playing outside her house was looking out of one the windows.  She was wearing a green mask.  I don’t know why.  I don’t need to.  Sometimes you see something that doesn’t need any help from words to be a picture.