(By Honor Moore)
A plane tree, leaves green as if polished,
the reddened tips of fruit trees, a stand
of cypress, and through the blackened green,
a yellow field, slant of roof. Nearer,
the castle gate, pale brick flecked with stone
like cream with nutmeg or cinnamon,
and climbing, vermilion of roses.
As swallows shriek and dive, their shadows
loop to mark the wall, then disappear.
Another week finished. Let's look forward to a funny-filled Friday night and wild, wonderful weekend. ;-)
And here's a fuchsia, just for the fun of it.
The poem that I quoted above is actually my first exposure to Honor Moore's work. I like it. There is a strong sense of synaesthesia binding colors to sounds. Here's a poem I found on the Tubie:
Here's Honor Moore's Wikipedia page and official site.