A poem from Luci Shaw:
God Speaks in Blue
My friend hands me a gift
from overseas. “Here,” she says.
“For you.” The small packet rustles
with dry particles. Through thin paper
my fingers feel the nubs. I thank her,
turning over the plain brown envelope.
There from the other side a photo–
the vivid, blunt cross of Mecanopsis Betonicifolia,
a Himalayan Blue Poppy–looks at me with
its gold eye, four azure petals blazing.
A blue to color a dream. The blue
of Mary’s mantle according to Raphael.
The blue at the heart of a gas flame, within
an ice cave, one a cerulean door in a white wall
on Santorini, a kind of blue that
catches my heart ajar and blows it wide open.
Dry seeds and a picture, until next spring.
But, oh, if only I could be alive enough
to burn like this flower. If only
I could bloom as blue as this.