Claire V. Bogdanos

I see God’s colors clearly, crisp blue of winter sky

The umber of the dried leaves as they go flashing by

Cool gray of all the clouds as they circumvent up high

And in the sleeping gardens, dull green of plants that die.

The colors are quite somber, I wish they were alive

Suppose I’ll have to wait for the springtime to arrive

I can barely bide the time till the brightness will revive

As I make this silent wish that I shall be alive !