*Amarelinho Dourada

Amarelinho Dourada

To have seen the Autumn trees,
could I have spoken of their splendor,
their romance of Orange and Vermelho
patchwork stars on a clear blue sky?
I am Amarelo Dourada – the yellow meadow
of taller grasses, weaving, scythed
and dying just too young.
I rest my sun bleached head on earth
to seed last breaths which sigh the flickering light,
burnt-out to fallow, life in pitch,
where life may yet grow strong.
Did I race the years to another Spring
for Autumn to always remind me
how much I believe Vermelho true
and Amarelo's solo sprig of green
sit side by side in the interweave
of meadow my soul has come to know as you.