Abask in the certain awe
of a midday Spring sun,
I draw tight my pale-gray eyes
to curtain the blinding bright.
For here, behind optic folds
ignites the familiar brilliance
of pinks and reds that arc and blend
to blues and golds
and bend my very senses
by their presense–
melding spectral density to birdsong melody
and winsome winds that brush against me to gilt intensity,
infusing my mind in pigmented propensity
Until at last
I am thoroughly subsumed within hot cherry-hued chromatic notions
contemplating waves of sunrays on vast daydream oceans.
by Jason Weaver, 2013
Author’s Note: Inspired by colorful ideas at DVerse Poetry Pub...and by sitting in the garden, which is endlessly healing.