if you've ever listened to the
trees, you'd know they speak
in yellows, not greens.
birds will chirp in hollows,
painting the echoes in
blacks and blues.
you ask, why yellows? blues?
blacks? why these, what does
it all mean, really?
to see a color instead of a
sound? when the light reaches
you, do you know what you've found?
the trees sing in yellows, calling
out to the sky in bellows,
aching to serenade their sun.
birds, those clever little feathers,
they call in blues and blacks just
as the night welcomes their crossing paths.
there is no creature on earth that
does not know the ache of night,
or the instinctive warmth of daylight.
nature communes far better than we.
perhaps if we took some notes,
we wouldn't be so very confused.