Yang

The Color Series


Cold, powdery, smelling of pine and muffled footsteps. A color with a sense of occasion, you grace baptisms, sweeten weddings and perfume funerals.

Fruity lilies and spicy roses attend both brides and caskets, praying for pure beginnings and blessed departures. Snowy crisp shirts make the man, alabaster gloves signal impeccable service.

Positive, strong and warm you recount firefly porch sittings and spring possibilities. An ideal washed in vanilla, pearl and lace.  Not perfect this side of heaven,  you dance with darkness, and point the way home.

Yin

The Color Series



Smelling of licorice and coffee, frequenting concerts and funerals. Moon damp and cool recalling early autumn sunsets and bracing winter mornings.

Contrasted with white in politics and art, labeled extreme. A favorite of metal goths and raven haired vampires, lurking behind corners, ducking the light. Some fear you, yet internal darkness is the genuine ghoul.

Quiet obsidian sky stretching over slumbering pasture, exhaling reflection and peace. Light is not adversary but  partner, the other side of the same circle. Coexistence is your password, balance your purpose.

Crown Beliefs

The Color Series







Amethyst royalty, shy flowers turn faces skyward murmuring moss, plum and cloud essence. Taking the shape of old fashioned candies and hand painted bottles.

Heather wraps a hillside, orchids climb  trellis.Cloaks wrap a heavenly king while sashes reverence redemption on a cross.

Sorrow, hope, resurrection, a deep color for crown beliefs.

Souls Awake

The Color Series


Wind washed sparkles on a wave, calm and tasting of sweet blueberry moon.

Serenity and depression claim you. Misty walls cultivate tranquility, sapphire darkness shrouds despair.

Bluebonnet blooms and lapis serenity.  Sisters herd children like ducklings, indigo veils trailing a crowning glory. Officers clad in navy patrol midnight towns. Singers shape mosaics with riff and voice, crooning heartache, love and vice.

Uniform, habit, beauty song: Clothe those who earthly serve and skyward soar. Hearts in tune, souls awake.

Heart Echo

The Color Series
















Lime infused, herbal smooth, a snowy breeze whispering through evergreen plans.

Emerald trees, verdant hills, little plastic soldiers guarding
the bottom of a suitcase, the inner chambers of a heart echo vibrant color.

Envy is a deeper tone, growth sprouts fresh and pale. Hearts flourish in quiet gardens, adding new chambers, blending new tones, singing spring songs.

Color Chameleon

The Color Series

A bridge between joy and growth, orange and green, tones of  fresh butter meld all the way to citrus neon. Sparkling citrine smells of fresh evergreen. Marigold carries notes from orange but still holds a sunny scent.

Lemon daffodils nod their heads at Spring's display, complementing a robin's egg sky. The clackety clack of banana Legos tumbling from a bin, building dreams, splashing pops of sunshine color.

Cowardice, sunshine, happiness, a puzzle not easily solved. Color chameleon, a drop of white, a hint more orange, a splash of green transforming.

Choosing the right shade, choosing the right partner, drop by drop, patience reveals it.

All Season Friend

The Color Series

What is your favorite color and why?

II. Radiant




Autumn glow with burnt sienna and a dash of earthy paprika.  Smelling of citrus and celebration, feeling  joy and laughter bubbling up.

Rows of grinning pumpkins, circles of comforting pie, a lone navigator on an ice crusted road.

Born for center stage, festive friend and cautionary guide. At ease at the holiday table or in the center  median.

Pouring out confidence, washing us in radiance, warmth and safety.

The Heart of Things

The Color Series

I. The Heart of Things


A double-edged sword, you are love and anger.

Tasting of cinnamon, cherries and fire, a flame-colored rose bubbles with champagne or resentment.
Darkness brings a deep wine tone and a pepper bite.
Light imparts tones of pink and candy sweetness.

Valentines and love, confusion and fear, you introduce rainbows and speak boldly at the heart of things.

Fingerprints

Each stands alone but together, a swirling vortex of waves, singing of  relatives long gone, hands held, hearts won. Foreign languages echo, laughter bubbles, songs drift.

Gathering conjures a hand, and a life. Closed comforter on a rainy night, safe and dark. Open fast lane drive, truth proclaiming, fingers reaching.

Days solitary like fingerprints form years, years life. Choosing closed fist or open palm, stamping an incomparable mark on life incomplete without us. Palms cradle free will, unfurling to Divine purpose.

The Magic Carpet

The house is a storm of alternating anger and loud silence. She escapes on a magic carpet woven of deep color and far off music.

Wrapped in scarves, color saturated skirts trailing magenta and orange in the breeze,she lifts bangled arms to bless the animals in the field. Shy rabbits, munching squirrels, tiny birds, all sense her kind heart and quietly come close.

Perched on a rock she paints a dream world rich in color, companions and peace. The Great Spirit moves between both her worlds; she knows she is treasured and this is her greatest power.

Blue Bucket

My voice is wide open and spacious.Scattered notes dot the ceiling. Some perfect,others shards and dull spots. They careen and soar unbound.

I hear, "You can't sing your way out of a bucket." I believe this. It's safe, blue and silent on the bottom. Music washes over me like waves. I enjoy the water, but long to surf, riding high, crashing low, charting my own course.

I look up. The sky is a different blue, the color of a robin's egg. Clouds like waves crest the heavens. My heart persuades my mouth and I rise, claiming my joy. Notes are my surfboard. I  ride high notes and  lose my balance with sharps and flats. Occasional perfects center me. Scrambling and falling sweeten success. I float up and blend with the blue Divine.

Styrofoam Angel

     Purposeful, brisk walk clad in crisp white and sturdy work shoes. Seamless mocha skin, a halo of dark hair. She glides to the metro.

Expectant, quiet and still on the brick stair, he waits. Clad in washed out denim, sprouting stubble on a peach of a face wrinkled by life.

She hovers for a moment in front of the stair, gently placing a styrofoam box of food on his lap. "You remembered me again!" he exclaims. "Yes, baby," she says simply, already winging her way home.

Her second shift starts each day on the stair, blessing a man's spirit with a meal and a kind word.