Meet in the middle at nine

Green is leaves and fresh cut grass
Swamp water or melted glass
So many flowers come in yellow
As do faces pale and sallow
Two extremes describe orange
Citrus bite or rusty door hinge

Trying to find the good at nine

When I get angry
I only see one color
Guess what it might be

Dyed and roasted eggs at nine

It would be gone by Easter
He said a year ago
And while things aren't perfect
At least one them *did* go