A Cool, Blue Time

The time was a cool time.
My heart instead of its usual
insistent beating was cool.
There were birds fluttering about,

their feathers drifting in the air,
getting caught in my hair,
lightly touching my blue skin.
It was a cool, blue time.

I went down to the waters to drink,
to sing of the old place.
There were many weepers there,
singing of the old place.

I think we each sang of
a different but same place.
In the distance a yellow light
was rising above the waters,

now yellow and blue,
yellow and blue in waves.
My feet dangling in the water
could not move.

A woman there looked at me
with a strange eye.
In the breezes her hair
was a brown motion.