Here is a little free prose written in 1985 while looking at the painting by Edouard Coates depicted here. The title of the piece is "Alive". The reason it is here now is because someone dredged it up out of the archives of another site.

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Alive

You step closer, looking for detail
Lost in distance and suddenly you see
There is much more than before.
See the people scurry, heads down
With purpose, seeking destinations
Dry and wind free.

All seem caught up in their shuffling,
Boots squeezing water at every step
And umbrellas tilted to the wind,
Shields held against a wet enemy
Pelting from above - relentless
In its attack, turning street to mirror.

But wait, there is one who, head held ,
Jumps, bounces, skips and splashes from
Walk to gutter and back. He laughs.
His laughter a song. A song
That beckons, entices and challenges
You to him in his soggy dance.

You inch closer to the scene and
Hear the drops hit the pavement,
Bounce as as gravity allows,
Then fall back into the gathering
Puddle that once was dry sidewalk
To with the others in the mirror.

Now you feel the chill of a breeze
Drenched in the cascade and that
Musty smell enters your nostrils.
Mesmerizing, calling you ever closer
To the scene before your eyes
And the young lad who splashes there.

You see the grim, determined look
Of people pushing against wind
As they seek their escape. Some
Give up, ducking into storefronts,
Others continue the struggle, bent
On reaching their desired destination.

But not that lad who swings around
Lamp posts, their lights reflected below.
No cap, no coat, no boots, just joy
As he swings, splashes and squishes
Water from beneath his feet and
Laughs his come hither song to all.

But no one is listening but you
And you are drawn ever closer
Until, with a start and an odd shiver
Causing your hair to stand on end,
You realize as you stand in the warmth
Of the gallery - that ... that painting is alive.

~J. Richard Jacobs