The weather has been so nice as of late that I have little desire to do anything inside and find myself sprawling lazily on shaded benches reading Diana Wynne Jones and watching leaves fall in dizzying spirals from the trees overhead. This time of change is nostalgic, and it is all too easy to fall into a daze of golden memories and put forget the present. Of course, the present also edges in; parties in black-lit rooms, dancing on neon tempera paint and sliding across the floor in shiny rain boots. Loud music and quiet afternoons spent painting and studying for classes. For these feelings I would like to give you a poem I like, from Hailstones and Halibut Bones by Mary O'Neill (This is from my memory, so it may not be entirely accurate)
The colors live between black and white
In a land that we know best by sight
But knowing best isn't everything,
For colors dance and colors sing
And colors laugh and colors cry
Turn off the lights and the colors die
And they make you feel every feeling there is
From the grumpiest grump, to the fizziest fizz
And you, and you, and I know well,
That each has a taste,
And each has a smell,
And each has a wonderful story to tell.
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