Orange Beads
I.
I nod to the flower
the colour of dark wine
stalks and spikes that tower
above my legs and spine
twin doors an orange spill
the only one in town?
why is my own door still
an ordinary brown?
O sweet day!
II.
All these parallel roads
the orange doors are where?
again the suburb soaks
in sunshine hello there!
they smile and say hello
all else though stays behind
their sturdy frames and so
I keep my orange find
two bright beads
III.
The hawthorn turns orange
the blackberry turns black
mingling at the park’s fringe
behind the cycle track
the sky is blue as if
this were a normal state
as if we could just live
beyond the iron gate
of summer
Christina Egan © 2016
In London, you can find many front doors painted in red, blue, or green, but I had never spotted an orange one. I have mentioned a striking yellow door elsewhere. I usually go out without a camera, but I capture impressions with my pen!
There are so many green spaces in London that you can walk through parkland for hours. To find blackberries and hawthorns tucked between a duck pond and a little copse is quite normal in this vast city of over eight million people.
The verse pattern is borrowed from the French poet, Jean-Yves Léopold, who does not have a website. Eight short rhymed lines, almost without punctuation, are followed by a ninth line which is even shorter and does not rhyme at all, so it stands out.
Christina Egan 