violet ultra violet in poetry

at the very edge of what is seen
violet churns, some soft machine
of indigo-glow and purpled gleam
beyond it, seen only by the bees
those ultraviolet codes in trees

but we can’t see as do the bugs
that put the mead into our mugs
our eyes’ upper-limitation hugs
onto loosestrife and lilacs dug
an evanescent early-summer love

those just-out-of-reach energies
feeling out half-blind mysteries
beyond the invisible blisterings
beside our own sun’s glistenings
plasmic mass coronal christening

things we cannot see, still real
that we only hear, taste or feel
behind the pale, beyond the peel
suffusing roots to grow and heal
where hot red fuses to cool teal

dim perception tries to conceal it
the flowers and sunshine reveal it
in festive commemorations, seal it
our mindeyes open to fully feel it
we carry forth with violet spirit!

Last updated May 02, 2023