Phil Burpee
What do you call that colour
in the bud of a wild rose
before the petals
before the fuss
before the petticoat shows?
I'm sure it isn't fuchsia
and likewise not quite red
nor really pink
nor blood, nor blush
more like sunset's wedding bed
Gallardia and prairie smoke
locoweed and flax
spread across the crazy ground
like a rainbow left its tracks
Some things I guess they just surpass
the ability of words -
certain smells on certain winds
and the languages of birds
Oh, what do you call that colour
in the bud of a wild rose?
It burns a sweet and living flame -
undimmed, though my eyes I close.
Phil Burpee
Pincher Creek
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