Pink

The full moon in April, a week or so ago now, is sometimes called the Pink Moon. Here’s a riff on pink, a list poem of sorts, to finish out National Poetry Month.

Pink

A blush, a secret, an idea of something more
Peppercorns and primroses, spicy and showy
A bud before the boring suburb
drowns everything with green, a pause
A moment, recalled more often than a dream
Chalk drawings hoping rain will be delayed
Arms open wide, not even hinting at their fruit
Uncommon edge of rainbows

Unimpeded by what some may think
Ruffles fine amongst the denim
Room to breathe, relax, enjoy
Two-lipped, polished, but carefree
Lighter underside, brighter above
A paparazzi photo burst
April’s full moon, the creeping phlox
The prunéd crabapple’s prom dress

Hope you have enjoyed National Poetry Month!