Tag Archives: orange
Golden tresses wave in the pale sunlight. Fire colours flicker – red, yellow, orange. Leaves slowly burning, their tiny flames fanned by the bitter winter wind.
It shines through skeletal leaves. Tinged pink and orange, they glow like Christmas lights. An early morning light show penetrates the frost.
An orange bloom of rust spreads out from each jointed end. Their tops are polished by a lifetime of trains. They have stood the test of time, people and politics. One day they will fail, but not yet.
As the evening sunlight hits them, they begin to catch fire, like Icarus’ wings. They shed their green for the glowing orange, but their fall will not come until Autumn.
A tiny baby’s hand curls itself around the handle-post on the bus. The pink little fingers, brand new and tipped with their perfect little nails, stand out against the plastic, orange garishness of the post. Both man-made, yet one so … Continue reading
Yellow and orange, they open their petals, revealing the secrets within. They have guarded these black hearts closely, ready to be revealed to the sun alone.
The brightly-dressed figures herald the Summer with song and dance, with gratefulness and joy. The sun appears, bright orange glowing in a cloudless sky. It gives them a performance in its turn, as the shapeless landscape transforms into shining life.
The sun hangs in the sky like a perfect orange torch-beam. Wispy clouds surround her, theatre curtains revealing her newborn fragility. The world seems bleached of colour beneath her, its early Spring colours waiting for her touch.