1.
I see the moon through mist,
I see the subtle loveliness of clouds
that move like lace across her face,
and how she laughs as they change her shape
just for a moment

2.
I think about the spread of colors, where they appear —
Red rolling into green through luxurious russets,
Golds darkening to ambers in the rich wood,
Plum, wine, umber, concentrate to near black:
It comes clear to me why pink is not a part of red
though sky and ocean share the name of blue

3.
I think of what I see as I drift towards dream,
how colors rise up out of darkness
and when, to my closed eyes,
the light of thought appears,
defining the forms as they emerge from shifting splotches
carrying me off into the vision that reprises
all the things I didn’t know I saw.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 2, 2015