Fiery Studios: Fine Art: Wandering's End

There's a poem by William Butler Yeats, called "Song of the Wandering Angus" - that ends like this:

"Though I am old with wandering
through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
and kiss her lips and take her hands
and walk among long dappled grass
and pluck till time and times are done
the silver apples of the moon
the golden apples of the sun."

Jeff and I, in a fit of hubris, decided we could write another poem to follow this.

In our collaborative writing, our intrepid Angus did indeed age and wither, and so did the poem.

We could. not. finish it.

That's when we finally remembered that Angus was known as Aengus Og - Angus the Young. He never aged.

So we rewrote the poem, and this painting sprung from it, with Jeff as yer man Angus.