worldly solace

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.