fall must be a lover’s time.

After reading Emily Dickinson’s poem from my last post, I keep seeing yellow. Everywhere.

– golden amber beech leaves
– lemony yellow ginkgo leaves
– outer lining of the sunset
– etiolated tips of sprouts
– quince butter
– moon’s waning crescent
– under-exposed photo pigments on the Norway Maple
– Aspen…a whole clonal colony of them
– blistered plums
– carrot water
– squash
– reflection off the Great Salt Lake
– pile of Silver Maple leaves under a rope swing
– heart of a pansy
– unwatered grass
– apple’s patchwork skin
– Liquidambar styraciflua
– a schizocarp’s halo
– refracted light off praying mantis’ egg sac
– stained fingers from curried potatoes

 

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Yellow.

Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,–
Prodigal of blue,
Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover’s words.

Thank you, Emily Dickinson, for helping me to appreciate
the spectacular colors of this season.