Naming all the colors
is harder than you think–
best if left until the first cup of 
lavender-grey tea
has made its way
through all five senses.

The table is pinker
in the morning
(on this kind of morning–
a pale wood-rose)
than in the dandelion light
of afternoon.
And the pink of each morning
is a different pink
Which my daughter seems to know instinctively:
Coming down the stairs from waking
Rushing to the window
Moving the curtain aside
And letting all the light of morning
Fill up her eyes
Before coming into the
Cherry blossom kitchen
Finding me, to her delight,
up early and asking if she can
(break this soft mauve stillness
with questions of every color
and) join me for tea.