Brown

Some think brown is drab or dirty

But I see so much more

I see the potential,

A treat, a gift

Or a proclamation of love

When I mix a chocolate cake

Or cream brown sugar into butter,

Turning the sunny yellow mixture

Fluffy and tinged with brown.

I also see it’s vitality

When I dig my hands into the rich earth,

Pulling up home-grown potatoes,

Russet in name and color.

And in the earthworm

That I meet, his ochre body

Wiggling by.

I see the knowledge

In a worn leather-bound book

Waiting to be opened to share its secrets.

I see beauty in the wild mane of a horse

As he flies by

As if wings on the hoofs,

As if an equine Hermes

Knowing he is not drab or dirty,

But that he is everything.