(Yesterday, I hosted a Germination Workshop where seven poets wrote to nine prompts over two hours. The final prompt was a round robin poem on demand where I wrote to the word “Chromatic” provided by the poet on my right and I offered the prompt “French Fries” to the poet on my left.)
Color is too distracting:
green leaves in the bright sun,
the Italian blue of mid-morning
or a ruddy setting sun
turning under the clouds
into rusty orange hills.
Give me a winter of white snow,
gray slush and the black night.
The red of Betelgeuse
and the blue of Sirius
are about all the color
I can handle.
(I also turned this into today’s Living Poetry Prompt.)