A half dozen, or so red-suited
birds circle like staccato fingers
tapping on ivory keys.
The pale blue backdrop and pink
misted hues of morning strike me
as most serene, tranquil.
The Rookery dotted with the stalk-like
Herons, nesting, quarreling over
those high spaces in trees.
Dead trunks, algae masking the
fish below the surface. So many
layers of green, earth.
And blue. Oh blue. You are everywhere.
You are the air. You are the water.
When the day is calm, your mirror
turns sunlight to stars. Diamonds,
pearls. There is nothing so lovely.
Shades of blue, sky.
Oh, the colors of morning.
Susan Ward Trestrail 2017