“What does one normally do with a canvas?”
Though he kept his voice light, the emotion tight in his throat had his hands shaking, and he moved quickly, kneeling at Jefferson’s side. Taking a deep breath, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. The familiar gesture calmed his nerves.
“Paint. Create.” Micah’s emotion seemed to be echoed in Jefferson’s words. “Create a new shape for the world. How are you going to use this canvas?”
“I have a new poem to share.” He opened his new pot of ink and picked up the narrow brush he’d purchased especially for this task. “I thought the quill might scratch too much. With your permission, I’d like to give you this verse, wear it on your skin like the comfort I mean it to be.”
“I’ll wear it,” Jefferson breathed. “I am honored to wear your wo
