If it wasn’t for the lilac hue I’d grovel deep in
shades of grey; jacaranda’s opulence bends
every carpet fractal sense it lays, extending
open welcoming a-purple blue, alluring eyes
away from view-effaced mundanity of brown
erasing green heat a-shimmer windlessly in
torpid scenes a-sere - here an eye delights
in passive introspect and gathers strength
The greeting grand & feeling lasts all day, an
eloquence of passion stored so perfectly - or
am I merely pandering to ardency in colours
true - revealing hidden tendencies with hues
too subtly phrased to brush away as dreams
it seems the trees are well aware I’m here
© 21 November 2014, I. D. Carswell
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