A Facebook friend posted a picture of jelly beans, chose a color to express her mood and asked what color the reader was. Not content with that, I gave a different reply, here expanded. …
I am Color. More than the incandescent stripes of the rainbow, more than the modest drops of covered chocolate, more than the jar of painted beans.
I am the the shifting shades of the forest from the journeying sun. I am the sands and layers of the Grand Canyon shimmering in its depths and turns. I am the moods of the ebullient Atlantic, rolling, foaming, lapping the beaches. I am the musty grains of the anthill, the moving empire of marching feet.
I am the turning and folding of the clouds. I am the greens and golds and reds of the exoria standing at attention in the flowerbed. I am wing and breast and tail flashing in the trees.
I am the tender blade of lively green, struggling to be born. I am the dead grey of aged stalks, bereft of foliage. I am mature stands of trunks whose branches rest upon their neighbors’ shoulders.
I am the ash of sooted stacks, belching smoke against the sky. I am black slivers with lines of yellow cutting nations in blocks of movement. I am green squares of pastures dotted with lumbering hooves, equidistant rows of tender soy, connect-the-dots tracts of coffee trees reddening in the tropic sun.
Color am I, the earthy browns and reds, the heavenly blues and whites, the darks and lights of day and night, the steels of man, the stones of God.