In the middle of this autumn

that has eased its way into

my humming summer, I will

hold onto my inner springtime

and continue this absurd but

sweet work as best I can.

Like the sunrise I too arise

to ease these lines into life

to let the colours of dawn

stream from my faltering fingers

tapping these keys as the coffee

stirs my blundering brain,

blundering into obstacles

but nonetheless pressing on,

taking a deep breath with the sky,

feeling my bare feet on the floor,

seeing these purple hues emerge

from within and without.

The colours are unnamable

but our task is to name them

or at least to keep trying:

amber-washed, golden-smeared, peach-plunged,

pink silken-fingered wedding dress,

violet … violet.

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