Evening

In a moment things can change color,

the fall of light, the path of clouds,

reflection’s edges …

My thought trails behind perceptions —

I reach for color names

but cannot find them

Or I still think the walls are yellow

long past the time that shadow

has rendered them something else —

Is it a weakness of language,

or of my nimbleness of mind,

or some efficient function

of what I need to know?

— As evening pulls the corners into umber,

leaving golden glows around the lamps.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 20, 2019