Dauntless Orange

Not a bird rhymes with orange, so every sing
must ring vermilion. A civilian decorated in drab
counts our days at war, counts a zillion wishes
spent on wounds. Comical and ugly, an albino king
snake rises from the last river, slick as marble, a slab
of freeway. And the blue house with the orange door
is out of time, and the last river is not a snake or dish
of cherries. All landscapes muted by speed cling
to the windows. Look right into the sun, watch crabes
creep across the sky, clobber azul, catch falling fish.
Forgive he who is too beautiful to let his heart store
a whisper, and the blue house with the orange door
is out of time. Nothing rhymes with orange, so soar (!)
says the sun, you are no one to run, you are more.