The Color of a Bird in Paradise

(or, a List of Things that Remind Me of You)

2016

burgundy

periwinkle blue

forest green

vermilion

creamy watercolor paper

the taut outer skin of a plum

trailing wisteria vines,

clustered with weightless petals.

the delicate pink-blue-yellow of just before sunset.

a tenuous, trembling vibrato far above the treble staff,

escorted by the same pitch, in unison,

four octaves down.

crisp edges, precisely pleated

softly ornate,

like sugar cubes with tiny roses piped on top in royal icing.

a heartfelt compliment

on the single unique phrase in an essay.

the very moment that a minor chord

resolves

mezzo-piano

into major

like a warm tea-scented breeze,

insistently peaceful.

smooth cursive flowing from a sharp pencil tip,

and the velvet edges of a well-loved classic.

rain

in big round drops

or maybe a fine mist

or, rarely, a summer thunderstorm,

not cold, not warm,

just sparkling indigo.

raspberry syrup over chocolate ice-cream

pale blue silk and cable-knit mittens

charcoal

dusty rose

lilac

myrtle

and a single silver arrow gliding through the fog.

it falters,

hesitates,

then pins the window shut.