Tryptic

Botticelli takes a warm bath. Springtime in arcadia, The Grace chicks are a threesome. I tend to ignore the other stuff that's going on. For triplets they each have their subtle differences The girls are demure, yet they seem to be hoofing a sexy gavotte. We need a Maypole, I guess the Italians outnumber the English in Elysium. They are as soft as a pillow dream. I wonder if they ever pillow fight - a pajamaed affair designed to arouse Pan and all his goat faced minions. It's lambing time and the ladies are bouncing merrily. One day I might take note of what else is happening in the painting, pull it all together with a few well-chosen observations. Probably, even then there will be some odd twigs, or bendable twists of green I can't weave together, no matter how hard I try.