Colours

I listen to colours to the sound of leaves
wind brambled and remember walking through brief
meadows up the hill

to shattering traffic the feeling of mechanical wheels
yet still when it thundered the color was rose
i have passed all the vast equations strewn on the green boards

and understood not even fractions but I know it is certain good
to listen to colours to the sound of leaves wind brambled
to walk through meadows and the cherry trees up ahead the

pink through the fence glimpsed to return home
with your skirt full of brambles and the thorns of small plants
having no other defense than this

to recount to no one listening but with such happiness
I have walked in the beautiful places
and I have not been ashamed.

mary angela douglas 18 february 2020