“To my aging eyes
that redbud tree looks purple.”
My kind son replied,
“the fault, dear mother, lies not
with your eyes but with
the one who somehow said that
purple blooming tree is red.”
JDG
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aholdingplace 
It’s not the tree that’s red–not the blooms–but the bud that is red; ergo, ‘red bud.’ Next spring, before your redbuds bud out, take a look at the tiny buds: they’re deep, deep red. I once commented on the beautiful color of the redbud blossoms–‘purple–nearly fuchsia,’ I said. A choir member bristled and said, “Those blooms are pink!” Oh, well; eye of the beholder and all that. I love your poem, anyway, because it touches on how confusing language can be–how it can move us away from the subject.
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