Bright red enamel of a teapot through the window,
brick red of a roof. Ask the weather vane twisted
in the shape of a whale which red it was that drew
fire from the earth’s belly, which red planted
seeds that burned in the mouth of the girl—
she held out for half a year without seeing
the black-throated blue warbler, without hearing
yellow-throated vireos speckling the air with
their song. So stark, these trellises of bark and steel-
cut grays. Whose white scarf has caught in the trees?
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
