My Colors
lilacs
tiny purple white
intoxicants
scent the morning air,
almost too sweet to
breathe.
woods
are night rain fresh,
dewy still
impossibly
jungle green.
wild berries
black and blue
lie deep within its tangle
to stain our
greedy mouths.
Christmas-faced pheasant
and blue racers pause
as we pass by.
we search the sky,
plan our day.
fair blue-ahh perfect
gray-another Midwest day
sickly yellow and still
we wait, arm hairs prickling,
we watch horizons for
a funnel stooping to chew
the earth.
fine days we play
all day
furry sumac makes
splendid spears
when stripped of its
crimson crown
green walnuts,
the ideal grenades.
the family garden
soon holds treasures
red potato hidden in
dark warm dirt
my tiny hand finds it
grasps it in awe.
my mother’s laughter
ripples above my head.
To the others she calls
“look what my baby,
my lovely copper penny,
has found!”
She bends toward me,
her smile dazzling my
heart.
These are my days
My colors
My memories
Me
About the Creator
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