Respiration; Exhale

Late afternoon, predusk
Crystal beads balance in between blades 
And I wonder how the dew does
Survive the day, 
Like me.

All the change and energy
exhausted.

Exhaled more than I took in.
Eyelids spread wide
I steal the last flakes of golden sun
And hold my breath
Because it's all I know I can do
and besides 
(myself)
my heart is simply too heavy
To lift this evening.

Painting by Henri-Edmond Cross, 'The farm, evening' c. 1893 [Public domain].

Patina's Purples

Remember-
Under the light of dusk,
when our eyes are quiet;
wordless, we watched
pink crests crowning purple clouds
passing by on the pale canvas sky...
Grey grabs all with its notes
taking the lead
.

“I want to see a new color,” she said-

I remember, “but there are none left.” 

Instead

Imagine a new blend, a color made from none of these

I pretend it cannot be seen, but better felt-
inside closed eyes

like blue

or a red
Aura

“A new hue,

another shade made of you.”

“I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror,” 
she confessed.

You ripen while you rest. 

And thus this innocent request

was bestowed.

A complimentary color, 
a gradual gradient 
evaporated and echoing
the tone of dawn

a radiant hinge on the fringe
of the rainbows wheel
angles ajar
prismatic and enigmatic.

Image By Anonymous [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Flammarion Woodcut, c. 1888.