During the pandemic, I took daily walks in a forest not far from my studio. I made drawings that traced the path of my eye as I looked up into the canopy of old hickory and oak trees, then I simplified them to capture the essence of select visual rhythms. I composed with the hues of milk-glass winter skies and the rocks, mosses, lichens, and leaves that littered my path. My fascination with the mystery of how a work of art can embody an artist’s expression gives me empathy for Aristotle’s earnest attempts to capture in words the soul and function of things. Social distancing provided me with ample time for an indulgent re-reading of his works.