Lieke Marsman (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cantseenewyork) wrote,@ 2024-07-11 11:53:00 |
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BLUEBIRD IN CUTLEAF BEECH - Wendy Wilder Larsen
there is no pigment in blue feathers
all other colors are scattered out
blue is what's left
that particular shade of delphinium petals
falling on my mother's white lacquer table
under the rotunda in summer
the color of distance
the pain in my father's watery blues
in that picture in the navy
blue
the faded pinafore in my portrait
hands folded, same pale eyes
the color we love to contemplate
not because it comes to us
but because it draws us after it
the will-o'-the-wisp's bluish glow
that loses us at the crossroads
lures us into swamps
blue then
this absence
this scattering
still I would search
and call out
there
mother
father
bluebird
BLUEBIRD IN CUTLEAF BEECH - Wendy Wilder Larsen
there is no pigment in blue feathers
all other colors are scattered out
blue is what's left
that particular shade of delphinium petals
falling on my mother's white lacquer table
under the rotunda in summer
the color of distance
the pain in my father's watery blues
in that picture in the navy
blue
the faded pinafore in my portrait
hands folded, same pale eyes
the color we love to contemplate
not because it comes to us
but because it draws us after it
the will-o'-the-wisp's bluish glow
that loses us at the crossroads
lures us into swamps
blue then
this absence
this scattering
still I would search
and call out
there
mother
father
bluebird
