The shade’s intuition for yang meets me somewhere. aloft upon a mountain side or field beginning to shine. Restfully it settles. Wrapping shapes and sides around a fondness. Of something to hold. Perchance sweet touches in still water form reflective lips the branches drink from slowly. So much so the rapid bursts of waves turn soft around me. Caressed into an opened watery gaze simple to share. My paint brush in languid swirls with not a drop wasted addressing the canvas. As I weave the blending of this moment into branches. Presenting kisses to touch the water. Copyright © Susy Kamber Song Selection - Ólafur Arnalds - Particles feat. Nanna Bryndis The opening—“The shade’s intuition for yang meets me somewhere”—sets a threshold moment. Shade (yin) does not oppose yang here; it intuits it. There’s an instinctive balance being sensed rather than forced. The speaker is met by this harmony in a liminal place—mountainside or field—spaces of transition, where light is just beginning to assert itself. “Restfully it settles.” This balance isn’t dramatic. It arrives gently, like an agreement between forces. Light doesn’t conquer; it rests. “Wrapping shapes and sides around a fondness. / Of something to hold.” Form becomes an act of affection. Shape is not geometry but embrace. There’s a yearning for contact, for containment, for intimacy with the world itself. Water then enters as a reflective, almost sensual mirror. “Still water form reflective lips” suggests both reflection and desire—water becomes a mouth, a threshold of exchange. The branches drinking slowly feels reciprocal: nature is not observed, it participates. As motion increases—“rapid bursts of waves”—they paradoxically soften. The speaker is not overwhelmed; they are soothed. This is surrender without loss of self. “Caressed into an opened watery gaze simple to share.” Vision itself becomes fluid. Seeing is no longer separate from touching. The gaze opens, becomes generous, sharable. The painter enters explicitly now. The brush moves languidly, deliberately, with reverence—“not a drop wasted.” Creation here is ethical as well as aesthetic. Attention is care. Finally, the act of weaving the moment into branches returns us to the natural imagery, but transformed: art and nature are no longer distinct. “Presenting kisses to touch the water” closes the poem with offering rather than conclusion—small gestures of love placed gently into the world. Summary This poem is about communion: yin and yang, light and shade, artist and landscape, water and branch, all meeting without dominance. It captures a moment where perception, touch, and creation dissolve into one another. The speaker does not impose meaning but listens, receives, and responds—painting not to represent the world, but to kiss it into being. Interpretation by ChatGPT