The color of deep ice, the blue
frozen in crevasses, a hue
like none other. Such ice
holds memory in that intensity,
a siren song that calls the body.
The early dark of autumn
afternoons, the sky’s cobalt
evoke delight even as sun
departs, leading us
to the depths of night.
One fall, I sat in blue light
cast by stained glass,
a luminous veil. Amazed
by a message I heard
in prayer, I lingered
in tinted brilliance, gazed
about to see if others knew.
Was Gabriel an azure shimmer
when Mary heard him speak
the miracle to grace her life?
Often our answered prayers
are wisps of such light.
Absolutely beautiful . . . I, too, often appreciate that deep evening blue with the black branches in shadow. Thank you for sharing your gift.
Thank-you, Stella. Along with your other poem today, two very fine pieces! I’ll return and read both again later today.