Of Color Red

The color red

Of all the hues on Nature’s palette
Tis the only one,
that at the same inspires,
Both passion and dread

Tis the singular color
that conspires in such fine fashion,
to aptly ascribe to both
the living and the dead

Tis a schizophrenic tint
of unpredictable nature
With both love and hate
described as such

And coined in no common nomenclature
As the outstanding adjective
for cold cruelty,
or torrid touch

It’s the ruby refraction
that demands the sight
That commands it’s attention
And keeps to it tight

It’s the flush rendered bold
When our anger is taken
It’s the blush from the cold
To our cheeks when awakened

It’s auburn shimmer
of sun highlighted hair
It’s the tawny tone
Of rich Tennessee soil

It’s the happy stripes
On Christmas candy canes
It’s the velvet glow
From lamps of oil

The feverish fire Of summer sunburn
Scarlet rouge on lover’s cheek
Rash of rage, so soon to learn from
Petty pouts and puckish pique

It’s the red in the eyes of the raven of Poe’s
The rising whirl on the barber’s sign
The color of children’s cold fingers and toes
The omen of danger, of Nature’s design

It’s the sun when it rises
The sky which it floods
The sun when it sets
And dies bathed in blood

It’s a red dress remembered
Rose pressed betwixt pages
It’s crimson rings on blackbird wings
And saffron robes on the ages