Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! <br />It is not a color. <br />It is summer! <br />It is the wind on a willow, <br />the lap of waves, the shadow <br />under a bush, a bird, a bluebird, <br />three herons, a dead hawk <br />rotting on a pole-- <br />Clear yellow! <br />It is a piece of blue paper <br />in the grass or a threecluster of <br />green walnuts swaying, children <br />playing croquet or one boy <br />fishing, a man <br />swinging his pink fists <br />as he walks-- <br />It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots <br />in the ditch, moss under <br />the flange of the carrail, the <br />wavy lines in split rock, a <br />great oaktree-- <br />It is a disinclination to be <br />five red petals or a rose, it is <br />a cluster of birdsbreast flowers <br />on a red stem six feet high, <br />four open yellow petals <br />above sepals curled <br />backward into reverse spikes-- <br />Tufts of purple grass spot the <br />green meadow and clouds the sky.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/primrose-2/
