YELLOW FOR A SEASON
All I knew today was spring.
When gnats controlled the air space
above the lake, fishermen
could not see to cast their lines,
and runners on the blacktopped paths
were unsure of twists and bends.
One lone forsythia bloomed
against the backdrop of wooden fence,
and yellow became mine
for a season.
Brown and gray were fading fast,
beyond drab waves of memory.
On this day, webbed feet
shaped the currents
in designs that connected shores.
I could not help but marvel
at a sunset that blessed the day.
by Hardling Stedler