red [aloud]

Looking, you lean

outside the window,

gaze reaching past the glass,

sprouting grass after

longed for rain turned

the dust and detritus into

earth again, red shoots

the due of this broken 

instrument, perception pared 

before you first opened

your eyes. Green is near

the border where the bandwidth

confuses, blues and reds instead.

The spectra that you separate

cling quiet to their frequency 

while words parse that

past what you can know.

So when I speak of the greens 

in blade or leaf I lose

the truth in translation,

my every thought approximation,

each expression an imitation of

the things people see and say,

so happy to greet each other,

so warm and freely they speak,

every color alive allowed.