Maybe it’s what I think of blue.
Not all of that depression stuff,
sadness and mourning and singing the blues.
Blue is the color of scrubs who shriek
when you disturb them and jockey
for seed with the juncos.
Blue is life and pluck and joy.
Maybe it’s what I think of blue
sky on a clear, sunny day.
With all of its vastness,
infinity and grandeur and basking in blue.
Blue is the color of sky and water that surround
you and overwhelms.
Blue inspires fortitude and delight in the smallest
bits of life.
Perhaps it’s the way these plants are recognized
when seen against a sky of blue.
Most of them small and unassuming,
growing in groups of tens, hundreds, thousands.
Yes. Unseen amidst a sea of blue.
They grow in rocky crags, desert fields, along trails,
around water and cover all ground left to Nature.
You can walk among them and miss them if you don’t look.
Certainly it’s the way these plants shine in a field of blue.
You have to lie on the ground or squat or crane
in such a way to see them highlighted against blue.
Yes. Then you see them.
Perhaps you see them for the first time, really.
You see the amazing details, the intricacies, the complexities
You see their pluck and joy and fortitude and delight
at feeling majestic in blue.