Brown Poem by Mark Heathcote

Brown is a pigment, the colour of the earth.
It's the colour of dying leaves—the colour of death.
That I've learned.
And if you blend all the colours of the rainbow up completely,
As I've heard; yes, it makes the colour
of a nesting bird's wing,
different from all the other primary
secondary colours separated by a prism.
So brown is an important unifying colour.
And one I'll happily sing in the four-morning winds.

In the world of psychology,
the colour brown represents stability.
Comfort, and most importantly, family.
But too much is said to lead us into a state of depression.
Or so I'm ill-informed. But behold, brown is a velvety word.
The Japanese haven't a word for—how truly odd
These ancient folk are said not to have invented a word
by now that yolks and wraps up the colour brown.
A white egg or a brown egg are just the same.
There is only a colour difference, but sadly,
It's a shame we don't have the same
understanding of more important things.

Those with brown eyes like myself
are said to be somewhat creative and even beautiful.
How can I argue or disagree? Brown for me and many others,
is a calming colour; it was something I always desired.
In my partner and lover.
As I said, brown is an essential unifying colour.
So cover me deeply with brown, rich earth.
When it's all finally over or burns in me in a brown
black smoking pyre of oak boughs and leaves,
I can later make rainbows wherever I please.