Blue

Not the blue of the morning sky

between the oaks

a burnt sienna blue

like the faded garment

of a medieval saint

Not the ocean blue

really green like glass

with the light caught behind

the wave

and the seaweed rustled in it

brief shadows of brown

But the l.e.d. blue

a white glow of blue

on your face in the dark

of the room tonight

you hold it in your hands

it illuminates you in the cool

and I shudder to know

the blues you know

and do not know.