The Color of Storm

Purple soaked in black

intense little pansies flutter dark
in bright sunlight 

Iris flail, splay and wilt

indigo midnight dripping

inky stain down the vase.

No flat man made shade, crayon, paint, or dye

can ever come close to your intensity.

When I realized you were Mystery,
When I realized you were a longing

I found you in the night sky cuddling a full moon.

I found you in the fallen crow feather.

I  opened  with deep longing

layered with slight sadness.

When I am old, bring me blackberries from the woods.

I will smash them between my fingers

staining my skin the color of storm.

.