Purple paints the day –
dawn layered in mist,
deer browsing the yard –
mauve and lavender blending
night into light. Days with you
gone are quiet, an inner voice
speaking comfort, certainty
in my soul that you are well, whole.
Beside the fire, flames leap
from an amethyst tip that crimsons
then flares a refiner’s white-gold.
I sip tea or sangria, book in lap –
maybe open, maybe not.
Windows framing this new world
to be re-framed, filled with more
than memory and grief.
You are in the noon-high sun –
shadows small and tender as violets,
waiting to be noticed – and I do.
Afternoon sighs into dusk,
shades of heather and grape
that settle into treetops then branches.
And the moon, as always, rises,
sky the color of day-old plums.
KB Ballentine
KB Ballentine’s latest collection, Spirit of Wild, launched in 2023. Published in Atlanta Review and Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, and others, her work also appears in anthologies including I Heard a Cardinal Sing (2022) and The Strategic Poet (2021). Learn more at www.kbballentine.com.
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