A Warning

I saw a man painting from the hilltop today,
His canvas all colours and hues.
Green, I’m sure for the grassy knoll,
But the rest was hard to construe.

He had red, orange and yellow galore
As fitting for sunny, summer display;
But the midnight black that covered the rest
Made me think that not all was gay.

I looked closer and saw that the colours
Were smeared in silent fury;
I watched the man stab with his brush
At the piece that had seemed so cheery.

I asked why his painting was so
Marred by such misery and gloom.
He told me his wife died a year from today
A bright day like now, I presumed.

He nodded and was silent awhile,
Then he looked me in the eye and said,
“Never let brilliance blind you,
Or them shadows will strike you dead.”