When night rests her dark sleeves upon the colors of my island home, I cuddle in tight to watch her show. She isn’t picky, she treats the flowers the same as the trees, the sky the same as the bees, but me? I am. I like best to watch the trees.
Three are pine, one is cedar, and I think there’s a maple or two. And through my window, as I lay in bed, they tell me secrets as the mistress of night slowly softens and mutes, whispering like a mystery, inviting my eyes, yes, my eyes…. to hear.
Green is the obvious one. But have you listened to her today? Oh yes? So what does she say? Maybe she told you that the seasons are changing. Or that she needed more water, that her roots were thirsty. But then, what says your heart? Do you let the green of your trees speak to you there? For you know, the whispers of green are secrets for your heart. Your heart. Not just mine.
And have you seen the blues and the purples as you weave your thread to sleep? What? you say. On a tree? Can you sense my smile and the happy nod I make? Blues so deep and purples so rich you are bound to speak. Of the things you wish you said or the things you wish you heard. Of your day, or your tomorrows--words, voice, music from a hidden soul that always wished to speak. Do you hear the invitations from the blues in the trees? They are there. I see them nearly every night. I hear them with my eyes.
And did you see a swash of orange tonight? Or was it more pink instead? A warmth reflected to your eyes. And did you, oh dear friend of mine, did you dare to catch your breath? When it coursed through your veins like a solvent for your soul, did you let it melt you, touch you, remind you of what you thought you had long ago forgotten?
…that you are a sensual being with abilities beyond your brain, that you can hear with your eyes and taste with your soul and that color is a gift for your sensual Self...even as night falls on a few chosen trees....