Don’t get me wrong,
I like blue.
But it doesn’t ignite me
Like jewel tones:
burnt orange, forest green, chartreuse,
beet red, purple.
One laundry day I marveled at all the blue:
blue jackets, blue tees, blue sweaters, blue jeans.
Why so much blue? It’s not my color.
Function was the goal;
Gear for travel and retirement activities,
not fashion adventures.
The back of my closet harbors treasures:
a gold-threaded amber skirt,
a hand sewn scarlet silk jacket,
a geometric fitted dress,
black and white and gold.
No blue.
I wander my house and tell myself the stories
of what has collected here,
our final home.
The discoveries and the gifts,
each piece of furniture,
every plate, every plant,
and blue
more blue than I imagined would be in my life.
Blue walls, blue art, blue tile.
And from my windows blue is the view.
Blue sky, blue sea, and
the shadow of the mountain
on the blue blue shore.
Sue McGrath lives in Manzanita, a village bathed in blue and awash in a community of writers who share their work with joy and compassion. She is a very lucky soul. Her poem explores the trouble she had writing about “blue” and her breakthrough.
