Dipped In Yellow
fluorescent trees bathe in the scent
of a citrus mid-evening,
fingertips tracing lemon stars
as roots house the very veins that
wake the smell of quietude: of what
mystery wets the blanket
of sparkling air robed in yellow mist,
as wisps of neon feathers rub
breezes ordained only for crickets
winging threads of flowered hair… hush!
the settling night induces a thousand
births of newborn seeds, seeds gaping
primeval rebirth stirring the flavor
of another late night in hints of amber,
and dusk slowly changes her skin
to finest tone so golden like wickers
of coming dawn… this is my kind of yellow
a burst of light where handmaids of wind
glide beneath my feet, the lake and dune…
this halo ever flickering through eyes’ palette
-----
For Broan Strand 265
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