By Diane Lee Moomey
—the man who hears hues visits a Sherwin-Williams store
You found it so intoxicating:
the way the choirmasters
conducting in the paint department
arrange as if in scales
of diatonic, pentatonic,
of supertonic glory;
as if in chords of baritone,
of bass and tenor, alto,
soprano; with delicate modulations,
in keys both major and minor;
arrange with exquisite, deliberate,
and possibly even loving
precision, those cardboard squares of color.
The deepest indigo
sweeps grandly heavenward until,
diminishing by whispers,
it disappears to almost-white,
with barely a spectrum-hair’s
distinction between its hue and the shade
of blue on the row that’s nestled
beside it, starting all over again,
and chiming all at once!
Inebriating. You had to leave
this symphony behind
while you were still coherent: quickly
choosing a card or two
from every row, a humming handful,
taking it home to plan:
a scherzo for the entrance hall?
G major for the bathroom walls—
for bedroom, something even finer:
a rhapsody in C sharp minor.
is a watercolorist and poet living in Half Moon Bay, California, where she is co-host of the monthly series Coastside Poetry; her work has appeared in Light, Think, The MacGuffin, Mezzo Cammin, and others. Her newest poetry collection, Make For Higher Ground, is available on Amazon and at Barefoot Muse Press.
Artist’s website: https://dianeleemoomeyart.com/poetry-portal