Inspired by OVP8, SaraFM8, BB8,

Origins

Once black wings flapped,
and darkness lifted

so, the seasons fly in bird hues,
cardinal red, goldfinch yellow, peacock blue,
heron grey, and dove white

feathers drop, and we glimpse
light emitted, caught, refracted, reflected,
coned and rodded—

perceptions parsed through legends and time–
does knowing it make it more
or less mysterious?
More or less beautiful?

Once there was no word for blue—
seen, unseen–

all the colors, all the light,
bright-beaked, tail-feathers gleaming,
soaring out of sight.

For Day 8 of Paul Brookes’ Poetry Month Ekphrastic Challenge. You can see all the art and read the responses here.