Hobe Sound

[heslopian]

Second edit:


Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around -- These lines remind me of a short story by Henry S. Whitehead about a painting which changes slightly between viewings.
there's too much grey, the way it boils down, Not sure what you mean by "boils down"; I assume it's painting jargon.
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand? The rhyme here's a bit corny, though it may be inadvertant and necessary. Either way, it's not a major thing, just my observation.

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town. Excellent use of image-listing here.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said, The two clauses of this line need more concrete seperation, like a semi-colon. Also, I'd end it with either no marks or a colon, to make the transition into dialogue clearer, but I don't know if that's a grammatical point.
it is impossible to shape these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head. Excellent close. Unanticipated, almost shocking.

Critique is JMHO, of course. Thank you for the read