A FRESH BREATH OF COLOR

Today, gray swamps my affairs.
Its blanket offers little perspective.
Fat chance to be reflective.
Colors and undertones are lost,
                  in my despairs.

This depressing session fights the dawn.
Spinning in a stinking whirlpool,
Sinking like every other fool,
I've lost sight of hope and light
                  that we all are floating on.

I need a fresh breath of color.
Like one my first mentor, Miss Crawshaw
Made each year. Hers was the vivid straw
That broke the back
                  of winter's pallor.

In a dish of fine white stones,
She arranged in random fashion
A clutch of narcissus bulbs. Her passion?
To witness the wonder in yearning minds
 while dispersing learning undertones.

That sixth winter brought new perspectives.
I saw patience, love and attendant duty
Nurture new beginnings into beauty.
An infinitesimal step each day
 became a leap towards life's objectives.

Tomorrow is renewal day.
I'll be off to the garden shop.
Have just the dish that needs a top.
I need another fresh breath of color
                  for display.

By: dc HILL September 3, 1993