PRIMROSE
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ellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!It is not a color.It is summer!It is the wind on a willow,the lap of waves, the shadowunder a bush, a bird, a bluebird,three herons, a dead hawkrotting on a pole--Clear yellow!It is a piece of blue paperin the grass or a threecluster ofgreen walnuts swaying, childrenplaying croquet or one boyfishing, a manswinging his pink fistsas he walks--It is ladysthumb, forgetmenotsin the ditch, moss underthe flange of the carrail, thewavy lines in split rock, agreat oaktree--It is a disinclination to befive red petals or a rose, it isa cluster of birdsbreast flowerson a red stem six feet high,four open yellow petalsabove sepals curledbackward into reverse spikes--Tufts of purple grass spot thegreen meadow and clouds the sky.
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