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Colors would die a long death on June evenings
as cars sped along sinuous expressways,
headlights cutting into the dusk; eyes fixated
on the license plates no more than 10 feet ahead;
as lovers strolled along the riverbank, hand in hand
not noticing her cheeks are colored by the
reflection of clouds tinged in rose;
as mountain lakes grew still except for the
occasional ripple of a hungry rainbow trout
oranges, reds and pinks wash towards the shore.