Colors Create Themselves

Murky water reflect a kaleidoscope

Of colors that blossom in but the scope

Of the Living season with leaves of

Pink, red, green hues that host birds perpetually,

Singing fairly to the flowers below.

The mesh of colorful tweets lies but on one side:

The piercing caws of predators respond angrily in kind.

Across the pond but brown is seen and calls for black leaves and rocks that have fallen—

Trodden upon, dark ground sleeps and recalls that only through dichotomy

Can life truly spread its wings: go all in

On living—for what’s light without the shade?

Of trees with color, and without, self-made.