opening lines

so i came across this picture of armor-backed fish
with calico ribbon tails and origami flowers
sailing through a watercolor sky of green and gold
over the unsuspecting plains of minnesota or nebraska,
painted in nondescript shades of olive

and i'm reminded of the way that my eyes see the world
through one-line chains of descriptive words
that would make great opening lines to a poem or a story.

for example

today's light coating of snow was not ordinary,
rather it was
"only the drifting white reminder of perfect winter,
too light and superficial to stick to tree-limbs,
flighty enough to shake free and float away."

walking down nassau street in the rain is an exercise in portraits:
"the afternoon rain spawned an impromptu blossoming
of spotted and striped umbrellas, temporary hideouts
constructed out of nylon reprints of van gogh paintings,
and clear plastic raincoats squeaking with every step of the
five-year-olds who wore them while pulling their parents
toward mossimo's for pizza, creating an early and disorderly
dinner rush."

if i see the world in prose
and understand faith in poetry,
then this life is a narrative tale
and i am but one character
who wants to be the narrator
of this brilliant and devestating
work of God's imagination