The Sensing of Colours

I have lapped blue

from the beak

of a swan

– filled myself with sky

until I became

a white cloud

straining its long neck

towards the South.

.

I have inhaled

the essence

of pink

– a desiccated petal

crumbling at my touch.

.

I have bitten down

on the sharp grit

of grey

– nearly choked

on the smoke

from its ashes.

.

I have crept inside

a fern’s curled frond:

emerged green as

a spring shoot;

turned my face

like a bud

towards sun’s

golden promise.

.

I have danced in a scarlet dress

as the moon shone red

on a night

hot and sharp

as the burning of stars.

.

I am all these things and more:

the red moon, the dark grit

the spring leaf,

the golden promise.

.

Watch me

and I will trail

my rainbow of colour

across your sky.