Monday, January 4, 2010

And he made him a coat of many colors

The morning is teeth-clenching cold
Crisp, dry air and sky so blue it hurts my eyes
The bruised purple sky I found starting off up the mountain
Turned to pink and then this cyan blue.

Rabbitbrush and sage block my way
and so I turn, follow a dry creek bed
and surprise a covey of quail

And of courses the roses
This one carries with it
memories of something lavender

A color, or a scent perhaps
frankincense and myrrh
And there is gold here all around

A cavalcade of colors
reds, and yellows, and browns
and he made him a coat of many colors

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