I was talking with my sister last weekend and she mentioned she had done a color walk with a friend at the beach. I’ve done color walks with my students around the school, often picking a color that I think they’ll have to look hard to find. I like the way that a focus on something: a color, a shape, a something…opens up new possibilities for what you might notice.
Of course, for me a color walk is also a photography walk…and lately a poetry walk as well. The tide has been low this week during my walking times, so the tide pools have been calling my name.
The color of giant kelp (macrocystis pyrifera) kept calling my name. An amber, goldish, kind of orangish color. And weirdly enough I felt like it was echoed in the landscaping I walked by (I did have quite a trek since we had summer over the weekend and parking also felt like summer–like looking for a needle in a haystack!).
With orangish on my mind, I pulled a small collection of photos from my walk, and then used them to inspire some small poetry. To be honest, I dreamed poems all night on Sunday, tossing and turning, writing and revising in my head. And then when I woke up it was all gone.
So, in the spirit of orangish, I’m going to try again. (Although I doubt I can conjure what seemed so urgent and perfect in those busy, persistent writing dreams.)
I close my eyes and the sun pours in
painting the insides of my eyelids a warm
and soothing orangish
blinking
cool pools emerge
alive with shelled hermits
the unhomed of the crab world
investigating abandoned curves of mother of pearl
awash in orangish spiralling exterior
tide pool gardens bloom
floral anemones waving tentacles
decorating with bits of shell
on dry land I notice anemone’s cousin
a pin cushion of a blossom
exotic, styling points instead of petals
in all of the orangish and amber of the sea
and a familiar bird
not the one with the bright yellow feet
but the one with a bright orangish mohawk
atop its sharp blue beak
it can only be named bird of
Paradise
Maybe you can squeeze a color walk into your week. What color will speak to you?
Thinking Through My Lens 