mming summer, I will hold onto my inner springtime and continue this absurd but sweet work as best I can. Like the sunrise I too arise to ease these lines into life to let the colours of dawn stream from my faltering fingers tapping these keys as the coffee stirs my blundering brain, blundering into obstacles but nonetheless pressing on, taking a deep breath with the sky, feeling my bare feet on the floor, seeing these purple hues emerge from within and without. The colours are unnamable but our task is to name them or at least to keep trying: amber-washed, golden-smeared, peach-plunged, pink silken-fingered wedding dress, violet … violet.

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In the middle of this autumn that has eased its way into my humming summer, I will hold onto my inner springtime and continue this absurd but sweet work as best I can. Like the sunrise I too arise to ease these lines into life to let the colours of dawn stream from my faltering fingers tapping these keys as the coffee stirs my blundering brain, blundering into obstacles but nonetheless pressing on, taking a deep breath with the sky, feeling my bare feet on the floor, seeing these purple hues emerge from within and without. The colours are unnamable but our task is to name them or at least to keep trying: amber-washed, golden-smeared, peach-plunged, pink silken-fingered wedding dress, violet … violet.

Potter Poems is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscrib