Guest Post: blue, (as I am)

an original poem by Marshall Thomas

Photography by the author.

blue, like

that heather-stretched rolling moment under the Scottish sky last summer's end.

blue, like

some oceans - specifically at noon, or in the layers of Clara's crayon drawings feathering the wall of her bedroom.

blue, such as

the dustiest minutes of a cathedral morning when the choir, echoes, and stained glass all sing together at once.

blue, such as

the coldest of you, when cascades dissipate and your regard freezes - as did the pipes in Lofoten.

(we should have let them drip)

blue, especially

under the shadow-knit hues of the kirkyard where I used to sparrow some somber lunchtimes. Reeling.

blue, especially

if I miss the piano hour of evening because of walking too slowly, or because I spotted some rare warbler in the gardens.

blue, when

everything settles meekly and my rough-hewn hope is the very final thing to fall asleep at night.

blue, when

I understand the best of yesterday and the better part of tomorrow because, somehow, you are smiling.

blue, (as I am)