Evening of Colour

The daffodil says it best.

It’s butter yellow crisps into brown

ready to match a dirt grave.


‘Summer is over’ it tells me.

Stalks me with this fact

along each row of my flower beds.


The Evergreens look the other way,

retract bloomless branches

from their seasonal companions,


worried next year they’ll be out:

that Nature grows envious of luck,

their constant support from Earth.


When evening comes

I lie with the dark in gratitude,

for it hides the lack of colour.


One thought on “Evening of Colour

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s