Late summer and a yellow story has been written
one about how God flung yellow exuberance
this way and that across the meadows in great poufs higherÂ
than my head, wider than my arms can reach,
more extravagant than any dream I could ever dream
lovelier than lovely prettier than pretty.
Gone are the purple cone flowers,
the wild petunias, Queen Anne’s lace,
wild bergamot, tall bellflower, germander,
vervain, oh so long gone little blue-eyed Mary!
It is a yellow story now that nobody wroteÂ
but anyone can read.
