Blue.

Blue is the color of the glacier ice in New Zealand

Blue is the color-
Of the glacier ice in New Zealand. 
It’s pure water, old rain sealed in coldness
For eons. Slowly melting like the years
Of my life into the icy river below.


Blue is the color-
Of the rolling waves at Bin Tan, Indonesia.
I watch as a lazy black monitor lizard
Floats tail up in the blue water. 
He darts here and there looking for fish or he is
Searching for me. I could be the bait in the blue bathing suit!


Blue is the color-
Of my new Log Cabin quilt made by my 
94 year old grandma. I could make my own,
I learned how from her long ago,
But it wouldn’t be special-a moment between us,
A cord of blue linking us as kin. 
Hope I can sew blue at that age.


Blue is the color-
Of the sapphire bracelet my husband bought me
In Cambodia on a dark blue night. 
“You should wear more jewelry,” he said.
I use to have a blue velvet dress he liked 
That I wore at Christmas. Soft as snow. 
Blue becomes me.


Blue is the color-
The doctor announced and prescribed anti-depressants.
Low thyroid, then no thyroid. Menopause. 
Metabolism B. Fibromyalgia.
It’s hard being blue, so cut me open and let the blue drain from my soul.
Color me orange instead.