Blue

a blueberry sky
coloring a yellow day
with white and periwinkle flavored cotton candy.
i can taste the childhood dreams on my tongue

tall, ferocious trees hardly quake
when the whistling air spins into wind
and i’m taken back to the moments i needed it—
when the wind got knocked out of me
and i cried to get it back.

reflections snoitcelfer
surface over shallow puddles of rain,
glimmering brighter than they should.
i don’t look down
so i don’t have to face the face that faces me.

in case you’re wondering,
i did get the wind back’
she found me eventually
(though i was hiding underwater for a while),
like a lost dog
finding its home after a journey of instinctive searching,
over mountains,
through trees and debris,
across oceans…

blueberry skies only taste good
when you can eat them;
otherwise, they’re just distances you can’t reach,
glaring at you out on the horizon,
clouded by yellow fog.

I’m tasting cotton candy for the first time
since I was a young girl,
and it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever had—
so wonderful that after I take a bite,
I stare awhile at my reflection, my face,
which looks back at me from down below;
and I realize for the first time since I was young
that I’m above it.

I look up and realize it’s raining again,
but this time it’s different: the sun’s out.
the juxtaposition of two things
welcomes a beauty beyond comprehension;
but more glorious is the beauty
that settles in the dirt,
pools in the mud,
and makes oceans
out of faces.