Few things can match the Grand Crayon Safari
In splendor, thrill and difficulty.
Few folks know the world’s shades as well as she,
The great color hunter, Mackles McGee.
Her first catch came on the day she was born.
She stared straight into the eye of a storm.
Its scared gaze broke and its Gray was torn
From heavy clouds laying low and worn.
As a child she worked real hard,
To see the colors as they really are.
Every shard she caught she jarred,
Hunting every hue, however marred.
Mackles went where every glimmer sent her.
She pulled Green out of deepest winter,
Saw through the sun to its gooey Blue center,
Snatched Purple from flames, splinter by splinter.
Very few people see true color.
They look at one thing but see another.
McGee has many more mysteries.
Why do White and White wander as they please,
Worming their way into all she sees?
How are Rainbows only seen not seized?
Where’s Black? Everyone knows and disagrees.
She lives and learns but life’s a tease.
Now off she goes into the Golden trees.