Bring Color Back To Me

Bring Color Back To Me

This orchestra goes on playing,
Water rising about laps, anchored music stands...
These violin bows are zippers of miniature spouts
Well-mastered by hands.
Gazes are locked against storm,
The on-cue clash of cymbals...
To take root in a flood, mud slide, determination must
Flex, bend, a woodwind, elemental, letting
Fish flap, dart between overtures.
Sheet after sheet of music is climactic,
Grace, some case of notes dyed
Blue-grey by weather waving upon flesh,
Mysterious, impervious, but
Longing for radiance, color again,
That rich vivid saturation, a quilt
Maybe, brought back warm, human-made,
To be wrapped tent tight around these
Instruments unsheltered