The Cost of Yellow
I know there’s a war going on,
but yellow flowers cover trees
in the parking lot as I pull in.
True, missiles shatter lives
while destroying buildings, but
fallen petals cover the tarmac
with a fairy-yellow glow. Yes,
sirens send us underground
while rocket’s dread flares,
and these, too, crash
stupendously, but the
sea air waves a soft, humid
blanket spread out by
soothing breezes. So
easily I forget the price
of wind, the cost of yellow;
so hard to forget the lone
cry of a carrion crow
perched high in the tree
with sharp eyes turned
toward the horizon.
Categories: War
Nice poem, Michaael!
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Thank you 🙂
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