Two weeks past, I went for a walk amidst the brown of early April.
Grass seized the only color, peeking its newborn green out of a former blanket the color of straw.
Trees held the first offering of spring buds, waiting to burst into naïve, pale leaves.
The creek crept contentedly past a thicket of brown bits along its bank,
and under the speeding wheels of a four-lane highway.
The path of April’s newness begins with shades of brown and wooden slats,
waiting for the splendor of color and life to spring in an instant before us.