This week's Poetry Bus entry isn't really about color, but has plenty of colors in it.
It's funny how fast a season can change.
It was only two weeks ago I noticed that, yes, the hazel tree did really package actual nuts into those spiky envelops.
I gathered them up,
got out the ladder,
learned to leave the green ones (I can come back for them later)
Then it rained, and rained again, and today not a single hazel nut more is to be found.
Come and gone in a fortnight.
Like cherry season:
One day the ornaments all turned red,
Two weeks later none hadn't rotted or been picked.
But never fear, it's just time for the apricots to become small golden suns hung upon their tree
Two, three weeks - all 'et up or jammed!
No rest; the wild plum is orange-red ready
which is only to warm us up for the deluge of yellow mirabelles
Followed hup! hup!
by the long yellow teardrop plums and the purple ones for making prunes.
Barely a breath before the apples insist, red-streaked and grey-green and yellow.
One day soon all this frenzied tree activity, this fruiting,
will collapse into the repose of brown winter.
And I will miss it.
There you have it for my bus ticket. I hope to have a Magpie Tale up later today, if I can just find how to finish it. Catch the bus here, driven by Marion!
16 hours ago