Color Wheel

The new road

to the old moon

follows a line of wild hickories

and neon pizza lights.

A roadside cascade of tumbling tomatoes

splits its side laughing

at chip paint billboards

promising a future home.

Shaded bricks bounce atop

of the pictured cul-de-sac,

like a juggler’s ball

in the hand of a one armed dancer.

Everything in the sky

has wings and a song. Listening,

down here, is a type of flight.

Our hope is for rainbows

behind the too familiar storm.

Will SchmitComment