“Is this the color I was born to be?”
Asked the bloom of its inflorescence.
This luminous marigold?
This radiant narcissus?
This vivid dandelion?
This golden columbine?
Nodding its head to the blazing sun.
“Is this the color I was born to be?”
Asked the bloom of its cyme.
This bridal elderflower?
This pristine allium?
This virginal dog rose?
This seraphic cherry blossom?
Nodding its head to sister moon.
Is this the color I was born to be?
Asked the bloom of its catkins.
This tremulous cottonwood?
This quivering pussy willow?
A sunset on Mount Aso?
A sunrise on this corylus?
Nodding, nodding, nodding…
Yes, yes, yes…
You were born to be all these colors,
Tremble at the fading of day
Quiver at the dawn’s light
Rise resplendently with the moon .
You were born to be all the colors;
My sister, my brother,
To share your beauty in this world
Through the splendor of your being.
About the Creator
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After the Storm
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham5 days ago in Fiction
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