That Blue Day

Just standing there
Feeling the cold blue steel
Of winter sinking deeper
And deeper still . . .
My hands, stiff-boned and blue-knuckled
Stuffed down and begging for warmth
I could hear the waves breaking
Blowing their misty cyanine breath
About the roots of that shear slate

Just standing there
Staring out long across the ocean’s wet reach
Watching winter weave her amethystine spell
My eyes held captive by clouds that stood
Like ancient mountains cold and grey-blue
In the frozen distance
A wall of mysteries
Time held motionless
Lost in memories

And yet I stood there
Soon to be startled by a feathered cry
High above me . . .
And high above the crystal-tipped spruce
Surrounding me in emerald splendor
I could see the birds, see them winging,
The great sea birds, dancing to a silent strain
As they circled, swooped and soared
In the flawless sapphire sky
Sliding out on icicle air . . . out away from my cold cliff
They were calling impatiently
To the wind-chopped sea that hid their prey
All washed in the indigo ink
Of Earth’s deep well.

I still remember
That blue day

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