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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
COLOR, by ESTHER YARNELL
First Line: The sun is a golden bowl
Last Line: Waves of color bathe the earth.
Subject(s): California; Colors
First Line: The sun is a golden bowl
Last Line: Waves of color bathe the earth.
Subject(s): California; Colors
The sun is a golden bowl
Spilling amber and topaz,
Over lands that dip to the west—
Over mountains and foothills and valleys.
In the Santa Clara Valley
The apricots are ready for the pickers.
They fall on the warm loam of the orchard—
Apricots, the sun-loving fruit of the Romans,
Yellow skinned and golden to the heart.
I know where there are hills of gold.
I know the fields of yellow mustard.
Wild canaries dart
Across the honey-colored vapor,
And are lost in the floating mist.
I know where cloth of gold is spread
Along the shimmering foothills
That slant to the setting sun.
Honey-colored, honey-scented mustard,
These few stalks that I hold in my hand
Are many flowered and enough for a poem.
It is twilight along the shore.
All the colors of delicate sea gardens,
All the colors of the polished bowl of a shell
Are reflected in opalescent softness
On the wet sands at the ebbing tide.
Between darkness and darkness
Waves of color bathe the earth.
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