nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

red, red, red

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Autumn, no doubt about it. When I go outside, I see red everywhere. The red of the leaves of red maple, many already on the ground. The red of the lily-of-the-valley berries. The red of the crab apples on our little tree at the end of the walkway. The red hips on the rose bush beside the driveway. Red, red, red.

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red, red, red

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each rose hip edge

an ellipse to complete

the curve of rambling canes

berries red, mellow to orange

the white shine, highlight, tipped

with the black remains of blossom,

once pink, now vermillion of vermis,

cinnabar, poisonous, mercuric, toxic

lily-of-the-valley, raceme of berries

dangle, vivid crimson blush, bright

spot on fevered cheeks, the child

thought the berries good to eat

scarlet sigillatus, decorated

small images, pixilations

of woman with camera

limps to reach third

red, ruby, purple

red crabapples

in bunches

hanging

in rain

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Copyright Jane Tims 2019

All my best,

Jane

Written by jane tims

October 9, 2019 at 7:00 am

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