Fusion

Judith Taylor

Now the sun 
is pouring itself into everything

we see

how it makes the grass
green, the trees

hazy in pink and amber and
gold, as early leaves
pick up its signal:

there is day enough,
fusion enough, to feed on.

Open up.
Photosynthesise.

For it's all
fuel, all the light

- all but that single wavelength
reflected to the eye.
Green from the grass; the subtle buds;

the bold

dandelion
yellow.

The Science

This poem is inspired by the uses that plants make of light: for photosynthesis, and for seasonal regulation, but especially for colour. It rests on the slightly paradoxical fact that our perception of the plant's colour is a response to the wavelength(s) of light the plant doesn't absorb and use to fuel its growth. That, and my unscientific fondness for dandelions.

The Poet

Judith Taylor comes from Strathmore but now lives and works in Aberdeen, where she is a co-organiser of the monthly Poetry at Books and Beans events. Her poetry has appeared widely in magazines and anthologies: her first collection, Not in Nightingale Country, was published in 2017 and her second, Across Your Careful Garden, is out now from Red Squirrel Press. She is a longtime volunteer with North-East literature and art magazine Pushing Out the Boat and is one of the Editors of Poetry Scotland.

Next poem: Learning About Perspective by Carl Griffin