My world is desaturated,
blurry-edged shadows all around.
Purple is gray
Forest green is gray
Navy blue
Brown, black, all shades of gray.
Sometimes it takes my phone’s flashlight to pick out socks.
I have another small flashlight which is hot pink.
Even hot pink is not gray in the shadows.
One cat is gray
Stripes and swirls of light and dark.
He has eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea.
His pupils dilated in the gloom,
the color usually invisible.
The other is white with black spots and brown and black stripes.
To me, black and white.
He has one greenish eye and one blue eye.
Which I seldom see.
Occasionally a bit of color peeks out even in the dusk.
The red lid on my water jug.
A brownish-orange box.
My blue shirt half-illuminated in shadowy patches by the kitchen light.
The kitchen, when the light is on,
shines with a kaleidoscope of sharp, bright colors all around me.
The faux stained glass light fixture,
red and green and amber,
too bright to look at except in glances.
Purple Vanilla Rice Chex boxes.
A red bottle of Heinz ketchup.
Gingham plaid lids on some jelly jars in the fridge.
Orange juice.
The blue water pitcher.
A neon green dishcloth on a clean white drainer.
Once in a while I peek out the back curtain
to see my yard.
Searing bright light
reflects off the white condos across the alley.
Bright enough that I need to arrange the curtains
to hide it.
My new cedar fences glow amber.
A teal wind chime sends music – the only kind I can listen to – on the wind.
Sometimes I wonder if it bothers the neighbors.
The wind catcher at the bottom has gouged my new fence when the wind was strong.
It will need to be moved.
I can’t walk that far.
I take a photo of it out the back door window.
I am most startled by colors when I leave the house, only rarely.
Even with sunglasses
everything is so sharp,
clear, in focus,
like finally putting on glasses that fit.
Different shades of red brick, off-white stucco, wraithlike tree shapes, empty of leaves.
Bushes, green street signs,
all so sharp and bright
like in my kitchen
but a magnitude more stimulating.
But all too soon the trips are over.
I am left to my perpetual twilight, to rest.
I wish
I hope
I dream
I pray
That someday
The sun will rise again.