An Overcast Day In June

Speeding along the highway There's suddenly a bright Explosion; unruly color That calls to you from the passing blur: The unexpected purple house It's almost gone before you see it- As if a river of lavender Once flowed down that street Left it's mark only on certain Vulnerable things One house coated on all sides The house next to it seeming to sport Only a single lavender door I'm certain that if I could follow it closely Look for the tell-tale lavender shoe tracks I would note the lavender trace Gradually wear thinner, house by house Dwindle to a trellis or a shutter Until it was just a slight stain On a solitary front porch- As if a child had spilled His single pot of lavender And had to finish his painting by number With some garish dark purple All the while wishing he could pour out Collect, all that lavender, there preening itself Under the trees, under the back lit clouds As if it had been placed there precognitively Years before, only to meet his need of a moment On an overcast day in June.