Primary Colors
I see a flash of red through the trees,
And squint, hoping it's a male cardinal.
No, it's a far away barn.
I wanted it to be a cardinal because
I imagine that's a message from You that
My dad really is in Heaven.
Yellow daffodils were his favorite.
I hate to see them.
He just missed them those last days of his life,
The days he settled on I don't know what,
Jesus or not.
I hate not knowing.
I own the loveliest handmade ceramic mug.
Blues and browns dripping in perfect beauty,
A true artwork worthy of highest display,
A treasured possession I love to look at
And to touch. However, I cannot
Drink from it, because it scratches my lips.
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