A summer of purple:
deep, royal, divine.
A summer of seers and truths,
purple kaleidoscope. Seekers
and oracles, purpled cicadas.
Must the sleeper awaken
from purple marten dreams?
Give me a passionflower to drink.
Fetch a purple honeysuckle.
Wring out every lavender drop, brew
a purple tea. Whisper purpled secrets,
August has not yet come for me.
Purple sun lighting up the purple sky—
Papal purple, holy, holy, holy.
And hold. Purple fisted.
I adore this poem on so many levels. Vivid with color and lovely lines and images, and strong directive voice. As the Purple poet, I am humbled, wish I had written it myself.