Artist at Evening

I shall take my red from the nine-o’clock sky,
lift whiteness from perfected-powder-clouds,
plunder the grey and blue of roof-slate tiles,
adopt, as branches, do, a leafy green.
Spectrum of streets: walls, dogs, skin, clothes: the rush
of colour in air; immediate present canvas
jamming the fatuous sense with nerve, skill, wit
to implement the burn-marks of the brush.
Let there be light.