I am the blue, of

clarity

of truth

of baby-boy announcements

of languages

of change

I am the deep blue

of big band ensembles

dreaming of Duffy

and Norah Jones

of cigar smoke

refracted in spot lights

exhaled by salt and pepper

jazzcats

fingers

drumming on their phones

I am blue

like distant mountain ranges

like flower-power volkswagen beetles

and birdsong

and welcomes

and

the lines

on ruled pages

I am the blue

of my dad’s home,

his mediterranean crockery

wooden tables, flowers, coffee cups

of books

learning

travel

and talking

of herb pots and old cats

and phone calls

and laughing

I am the fresh blue

of denim

and road-trip adventures

of friends on holiday

of foreign foods,

of ipod covers

doors in white walls

and endless Greek villas-

of infinity pools

soft summer dresses

of cocktails

in nightclubs,

like neon signs

and laser beams

and lucky guesses..

I am the electric blue

of Spirit-guidance in dreams

of Turquoise

of Spirit-talk

and Lapis Lazuli

of kinship

and layers

and things

being more than they seem

of connection

of comfort-filled silence

of earth sighs

and Peter’s eyes…

I am the beat blues

of hand-written poetry

sublime Rodriguez songs

Indigo Girls’ afternoons

and Bob Dylan lyrics..

of 60’s silk, wet satin

and those scuffed

…….suede shoes…

like blueberries

candy floss

birthday icing

and bubblegum

icecream,

or 80’s eyeshadow

bubble skirts

pool noodles

and fairy lights

on xmas trees -

and late night

ferries…

I am blue

like the crushed velvet

of Roxy’s favourite

Steiner school dress..

and the blue flutter

of conscience,

after being drawn

to confess…

I am the shifting blues

of my mother’s brush:

turning canvas to

ancient singing skies,

her touch

making meadows

and quiet country cottages

and flowers,

lush…

I am the fabric-softener blue

of family

and kittens

of long hair

and wise-cracks,

of morning coffee made,

of ironed work shirts

and comfy, crumpled

house skirts

I am the dark

purple-blue of bruises

of brooding dusks

of clouds,

pre-thunderstorm..

of starless nights

of the thirst of the sea..

and the dark loss of lustre

of parting

with old friends

to death’s

inevitability…

I am endlessly blue

like the depth of space

like the flooding relief

of remembering

gratitude’s

gentle

face

I am the midnight-blue offer

of a beautiful hand

held

on the dance floor

of Saturday nights

of silver-lit smiles

and close

unspoken connection

I am the brilliant-blue dance

of bodies, souls,

in unlabeled

flowering, expression..

and I am the hot blue

of tears

shed in the car,

of leaving,

for the last time…

I am the

slow-dissolving blue

of your name on my tongue

of feeling you

fully

in your voice

of you being present,

and staying,

when you could

so easily

have run…

and

I am the long, blue, listening

of evening walks

on the beachfront,

down streets

and in cafes

over ice-cream and coffees:

alongside a friend,

holding

and bearing witness

to each other’s

great

mysteries.