An Ode to the Blue

Observed Once In Silent Hills

You always see it, such an
Endless expanse of blue that
Goes on and on to quiet
Ridges by grasses that blow

Around old fences from a time
Long ago. Like a sadness

Almost, like such extremeness of
Depth that you must drive and
Drive off and away from it like

Wind rattling a door at night but
Then leaving nothing but
A tipped over pot of plants and

A pile of leaves and bark
In a corner. Yes,

It is always there, you always
See it and know that even on
Dark nights it is
There, waiting somewhere…

For you. This pale,
Opaque, translucent

To Ingrid, En Route to Distant Lands

Ingrid, subtle,
Sly as I play
On old pianos with broken,
Frail strings. Singing
And playing.
Singing and

Playing songs of
Desert looks in markets of
Hot, humid winds. I see
It, I brace against
The scouring sands on
Mad days in war-
Torn Morocco.

Yes, so
Subtle, sly that I
Send you away like
Postage in the night. Mail
Set out long after the
Lone messenger has
Gone. Vanished like

Looks from pianos, smiles
From bars with slight
Hands held high. Dear…

Posted as part of Poets United Sunday Poetry Pantry