Sunday, February 13, 2011

red sings from treetops

"Orange ripens in full, heavy moons, thick with pulp and seed. Orange flickers, all smoke and candles. Orange eyes, Orange cheeks. Orange Teeth."
"And White? White whispers, floats, clumps, traces its wet finger on branches and stumps. White dazzles day and turns night inside out. A wrestle, a romp, a feast: Mmmmm... winter tastes White. Against White, Black seems blacker: Black tree bones in a pearled sky."
"In the winter woods, Gray and Brown hold hands. Their brilliant sisters-Red, Orange, and Yellow- have all gone home. Gray and Brown sway shyly, the only beauties left."

"Red darts, jags, hovers; a blur of wings, a sequined throat. Red whispers along my finger with little beetle feet."
"Black holds secrets in summer: night-sky Black, Black that flits and swoops.  Deep, wild Black that stares from the eyes of a surprised raccoon. Black in my own eyes staring back."
"Green is new in spring. Shy. Green peeks from buds, trembles in the breeze. Green floats through rain-dark trees, and glows, mossy-soft, at my feet. Green drips from tips of leaves onto Pup's nose. In spring, even the rain tastes Green."
"In the WINTER dawn, Pink blooms powder soft over pastel hills. Pink prickles: warm fingers against cold cheeks."

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