the blue of my eyes —

           not so deep a blue as when I was young
           they’ve been tempered by the passing years
           (much the same as the changing color of my hair)

           but nothing it the same as when I was young
           the echoes of my father’s laughter
           his calling me “blueberry eyes”
           remain the constant touchstone of my youth

the blue ocean waters —

           constantly changing hues
           always crystalline and pure
           the light playing on the surface
           mixing on the palette of the waves

           through the changing colors
           I slowly begin to see the clarity of my soul
           feeling the ebb and flow of my tides

the blue of the sky —

           bright and clear, huge and open
           mountains and waters set against its blueness
           clouds that interrupt its vastness
           rains that come to nourish the ground beneath it

           the years spent under it, painstakingly pulling roots from my past
           nurturing the healthy parts, discarding the rotten and decayed
           letting the shoots slowly feel their way into the

the blue of my spirit —

           a feeling that defies description
           not sad nor lonely nor tired
           nor any one thing
           but some combination of many things

           feeling that requires merely
           the space and time
           to run its course

the blue of twilight —

            a deep azure sigh
            bringing on the calm of the night
            a moment spent transfixed waiting for the color to deepen
            and the dark of night to envelope the vastness

I sigh also, for this reminds me that —

            I have the eyes to see
            my roots sink deep into Mother Earth
            the tides of my Self will ebb and flow in their own time
             and I am no longer afraid of the darkness