[Take My Word]

Dusk orange paints the silhouette yawn
Of a great blue heron atop a rock the drought announced.

Sailboats float the indigo under a great orange blue sky,
Slide the serene by the great grey bluebird.

 Autumn wears an every-color shawl starved for green- envious of blue. 
She fires orange at the sky, the heron, the slow blue bottomed boats.

But Indigo eats even autumn- though she spends her fire fast. 
Nights come quick now. Nothing lasts faster now.

 I should take a picture.

 But what good are words if the world is only contour lines full of color? 
What good is color without words to celebrate each hue?

How do we talk about the light without a language for the light?
How can you know what I see if you only see what we see?

 The scene is worth a photograph.
 Take my word for it,
S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+