This Morning's Blue

This morning I’m going to remember color,
Find my way from blue to green
And then maybe go back again
Because the sky –
That blue
Is the most skilled artist I have ever seen

 I’m going to dust myself with
The flavors of rain
I’ll stand there and pause my breath
So that I can pick out each part
The salt, the pepper, the spice.
I’ll write a book on it, recipes of love and pain

If I were a gardener today
I would instruct you to cast you’re seeds in the dirt filled with rock
 I would show you that each stone that carves at your feet
Was a wish made in the soil that sustains life.
The seeds need no worries on your part
Because beneath the wishing, and toiling is a richness we all forgot

I should never be a builder, because too often
I find I pack love in boxes and set them in the hall
I’ll go about my work with tools of frustration
Hammering out past pains that have damaged
All the while scrapping memories
That should have never been taken off the walls

And this morning I’m going to dance on the rings of Saturn,
And collect sunlit corridors on my sleeves
Draw lines from here to earth so that I can visit again
Because here, exhaust of rich and poor, have’s and have’s-not
Cease to exist or simply hideaway in the cold of the layers
Either direction supplies open room for weaving stories

So I’ll sit down on the edge of the rings
And swing my feet, look down on the universe and tell my tales
I’ll call humbug on the small blue planet that turns with the clock
Its biggest lie – the cravings of things we know nothing about.
Still I know how they’ll pack it in suitcases
And hurry on to their jobs and lives
And while they do it,
I’ll breathe the open space as the numbers that they packed
 Fail.