Hue

Late October solo walk and the sun shines,
warming my back through goose feather-filled puffer vest.
Foliage all around me, limbs and branches dance in the breeze
playing multicolored symphonies in fortissimo autumnal hues.
Despite my free limbs, my breath is a shallow, barbed woodwind.
I can’t absorb the beauty around me, the dissonance crescendos.
My mood clashes with surroundings, screaming in amplified electric guitar.
How many hues of ruby, crimson, marigold flame
flare seasonally in my brain?
How fiery, how feral, how caged I feel:
while the clouds above are wispy white, high and bright
– and the sky is blue as midterm lawn signs stuck into green grass yards –
rage rises within me, red hot lava, my eyes beam Joules, liquifying asphalt.