In the long, hot, humid days of Summer, everything is green.
More shades of green than should be allowed.
Refusing names (apple, asparagus, chartreuse, fern, forest, lime, olive, … don’t do justice),
Losing count at fifty-nine.
Casting layers upon layers,
Undertones and overtones,
Cascading hills of live oak, spanish oak, red oak, ash, birch, cedar, cypress,
Defying boundaries, defining the beauty of life.
And yellow, and brown, and tan, and red, and gold,
And umber, and amber, and burning embers.
The days grow shorter, the wind blows harder, the sky hangs lower,
The leaves are brighter,
A stark reminder of our pending renewal.
Autumn comes with a fiery fight of storms, complaints, and resistance.
White skies, gray clouds.
White snow, gray shadows.
White flesh, gray jackets.
Shadows, moods, perspectives grown dim.
Tree trunks rising sharply, pointing, accusing, at the unforgiving Winter sky.
Gray skeletons, reminding us of what was.
Hope may be lost
In shades of gray.
Green sprouts thrust through the rich, brown soil; ambitious shoots rising.
Bluebonnets, larkspur, irises, hostas, phlox, hydrangea…boldly reaching for the sky,
Endlessly, infinitely, spanning horizon-to-horizon without a cloud.
Only one shard of crystal in the kaleidoscope, the myriad of colors that emerge with Spring.
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Joelyn challenged me with “colors of the seasons” and I challenged Dara with “Freshly divorced, you’re waiting in line when you spot someone you had a crush on in High School. Write about it. “