I love how the pattern of letters

in Michigan pleasures my eye.

How the sounds of –ack, -eck, and –izzle

tickle my mental ear.

How certain phrases combine to delight

the way food and drink please a gourmet.

I love how each alphabet letter

has its own color and shade.

How the forest-green P

tints pentimento with its own hue.

How cucciola wriggles with cream-colored Cs

that evoke cocker puppies.

So appropriate that the word dottle

begins with a tarry black D.

That one name in my Inbox

glimmers in raspberry shot with sky-blue

while another, bone-white and beige,

lurks unlovely beneath it.