First,
the
color,
after black,
and
an estuary.
Then too many people,
too few wildflowers,
broken tiles.
She, steeply ascending
after dark,
looks up.
Planets there
where
invisible
cat's eyes
azulejo glow green under lamplight.
Second,
color after morning,
and tidal.
Emptied streets.
Fresh blood splats
and camomile.
Wealth isn't measured by old stones,
but in morning glories
and ripening apples.
Third,
the color
midday over
a garden,
and falling.
Steps.
I keep count.
the colors of.
the colors of.
