Red is . . . (a color poem)


Red is

a geranium, the only flower I can’t kill.

It’s a blood orange in the west

and a sign that means stop.

Red is

the crunch of leaves,

a cardinal’s song, and hummingbirds fighting at the feeder.

It’s a barn full of stomping hooves and swishing tails.

Red is

a warm tomato fresh from the garden and strawberry freezer jam.

It’s my mother-in-law’s red cinnamon applesauce in the same glass bowl

and a stick of licorice.

Red is

sore throats and cherry popsicles.

It’s wounding,

and it’s healing.


It dances on Rahab’s cord and breathes letters of hope.

Responding to Jennifer’s challenge to write a color poem. Make your own here. Drop it in the comments below, over at Jennifer’s place, or on your own blog. Be sure to share the link.