Greenery and Golden

Greenery and Golden

(“How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” Psalm 119:103)

Golden smiles and green spring day
light the tunnel we feared once blocked
at the exit.
Barricades of imagination sent us off
in false directions burrowing like fat gray rabbits
next to a church’s foundation.

A trumpet call, silver above the average clouds;
a fire bell, red and racing to the scene;
a storm siren, yellow and knocking down each player
drinking the last yellow sign of sun.

But one white silence, black like type on vellum,
and the whispers of honey can melt glad and sticky,
like peanut butter on white bread, added bananas,
and the dime-size bee’s work, glue and clover,
wins us over. Running our tongues between
lips and gums
we are not ashamed to laugh out loud
when every cloud still refuses to break for us.

What the Sweet Words make for us are
golden summers when our souls were frozen,
greenery whistling in the breath between
consonants and vowels, the crimson ambrosia
chosen at a moment’s notice long before light
ever was refracted.