Happy Mornings

The plains were bleak.

Amber streaked across blind eyes.
Clay wastes settled on grey plates.
Somber dishes opened with grace.
An empty cauldron froze in dry wind.

Chinaware reflected golden rays.
Oranges and pastels settled in bowls.
Gold spun through edges of ebony mugs.
Dark land opened its mouth for nectar.

Grey bowls caught my glittering emeralds.
Salmon ran through caves of coral and gold.
Parched skeletons guarded rusted floors.
A stranger strode across the silent land.

Their dark talons wrapped a full pitcher.
Their coal beak spoke through the dim.

Pumpkin mist fell from the pitcher's spout.
Mugs filled with poppies and white roses.
Slate dishes cradled amber in ditches.
Black soil drank in long gulps.

My plates were pink and orange and green.

The plains glowed.