Poetry

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Nothing other than cranberry,
well, maybe candy apple,
could describe the maple on the corner
Ablaze in saturated red
deep, almost burgundy,
like a burgundy on naugahyde,
not leather, this color stayed on the surface
ready to ooze into my rods and cones
to leap from the leaves, if I wasn’t careful
to splash and lap into my consciousness
break me from the focus
on the trip to the store,
the to do list back at the office
Snapped my attention for a moment
to the beauty of the day,
a gift from the creator
bright blue and vivid red

October 16, 2007 12:05pm

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