Remember the year the colors changed? When a strange redistribution of sun rays Started making rainbows in pastel shades? When pigments once buried in living-room walls Would rise to paint the post-rain skies, Laws of physics giving way to peach and beige?
We longed for restoration at first, Hunting for red in the pink, yellow in the ivory, Comfort in the known. No brightness came. We declared The End of All Things, Our gazes turned upward and away From the tempests in our homes.
Weeks passed, refracted in the ochre sky, And softer light-streams came to signify The passing of downpour into sunshine. Soon enough we found our peace Beneath these arches of butter cream, Watching storms turn into bows of lavender.
On easy days we prayed to temperate gods, Hoping they would pacify human hearts With hints of mauve and honeydew. In hard times we felt sure we could discern Labouring clouds, weak from ultraviolet, Painting our pain in periwinkle and mint.
Jester of shades, the playful atmosphere Returned the spectrum before the year was out: Crimson to indigo in seven shiny ribbons. Now and then, when vapors condense, Our memories coat the fresher firmament With lofty streaks of apple-grey and bone.