Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes,
But soon they’ll turn to ghosts.
— William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet
Green how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
— Federico GarcÃa Lorca (1898-1936), Spanish poet, playwright
her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.
— D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930), British poet and author
the great orange bed where we lie
like two frozen paintings in a field of poppies.
— Anne Sexton (1928-1974), American poet and writer
Swinging
clusters of red, the hedges are full of them,
red-currant red, a graceful
ornament or a merry smile.
— Denise Levertov (b. 1923), Anglo-American poet
Thanks for bringing a little Fall to Southern California.
The photographers are:
GREEN
YELLOW
ORANGE
RED
