Post Series: The Orange Series: Poem: Orange


The brightness flows and pops and shines.
It fills the space.  It fills the room.  It’s in the eyes.
There’s warmth and feeling and emotion.
As the mind searches, there’s thoughts of fruit and flowers, sunsets and stars, dog eyes and butterflies.
There’s sherbet and soda,
and little jars of marmalade.
As an accent,
as a tie,
a shirt,
a scarf.
It’s hidden,
without attention,
without intention.
It’s loud,
but isn’t.
It blends away,
even though it’s seen.
It’s bright and there and in places.
It thinks of red, and thinks of yellow,
but is its own.
It is a color,
it is a sense.