When this morn colors spray,
When this morn colors sprays,
Like green on leaves,
Like soft pinkish gold on the road,
Like mellowed melting light,
Tell me, what else can one do
Other than taking a flight
To that colored way of holding Your bright?
When the morn so beautiful like colors spread
On the sky, the lighted mind, and the glowing wide,
What else can one do
Barring dipping one's mind into Your so Magnanimous hues...
When this morn colors thus sprays,
One knows one has nothing to do on such a day,
For The Void hath colors sent to be spread,
As colors found butterflies while flying to the rainbow,
As colors found that soapy bubble catching Your glow,
As colors bangles get glassy by hearth,
As colors springy autumn brings on earth,
As colors become the free of flying kites,
As colors reign in a smiling child's eyes,
As colors dews enhance by falling on petals right...
As colors on water floating drops of oil evoke,
As colors once me found in your one glance,
a sublime brush painting a wonderous colory dance...
(Note: the photograph attached here was taken by me, once)