There is a certain shade…..

It exists in Magnolia pods in mid September.

But only for a few days.
And only in the right light.

My attempts to capture it have me vacillating between rose and peach; nectarine and salmon.

Red is not quite right.

Either is yellow.

Orange is off just a bit.

So is burgundy.

The color I seek lies somewhere in the middle.

In the middle of the chaos.

In the pull between staying hidden and bursting forth.

Somewhere between the shy dormant potential of life, and the bounding out of the seed, lies the calm, chaotic, perfect shade I seek.

A shade on the cusp of becoming; the sweet, soft blush of innocence donning red lipstick for the first time. Out past curfew, backlit by the moon.

The heady, giddy shade of wonder and awe that is hard to capture but lights up a room in ways words cannot explain.

Nabokov, for all of the controversy, almost, had it right.

I insult this color by trying to pin it down, a butterfly on stock card, wings faded behind protective glass.

There is no color match for this shade.

No code or combination entered can capture that elusive “something.”

Nature alone holds the combination and she holds it close.

She holds it tight.

She holds it dear.

She teases with a glimpse but will never lower herself to duplication, will not allow replication, slyly holds one element out of the formula.

Shrugs her shoulders innocently when you fail to succeed, winks knowingly when you realize you have been played, hushes you with a finger to her lips, turns her back on you, ushers in another day, changes the shade by a fraction.

Whispers the secret, one day too late….