Orangewater spilled
on your wrist
red bullfights flood
your afternoon:
you are meant to live
in the thickets.
No one single rose.
You can be a cardinal
no, a hummingbird
at the raspberry
juice sipping.   All
creatures, these
the roseate spoonbill,
red fingerprints, round
and flat
there is one, and there.
You are at the window
peering, summerplums
drip, blood oranges
an indigo bunting
at waterpools
and wet.

ashef@northwestern.edu