Glazed apricot sun slowly dips,
smudging cloud slips in her graceful retreat.
Tall lithe trees fade into shadow forms,
hushed in awe as once glistening lake
darkens to ebony glass.
Forest spirits lulled by night fall
to a solitary loon’s evensong.
And we sit,
grateful for serenity.
splayed on Adirondack chair,
porched on rustic cabin,
built on rustic site.
Vista before me,
cropped not by gilded frame
nor dimmed by darkened glass
or visor’s cap.
Sentinel woods stand tall,
surround calm rippled waters,
beckon bare feet to rough hewn dock
and yet I sit.
Adirondack sky stretches above me,
bluing clouds to their brightest white.
And I breathe, deeply,
deep green forest scent.
I sit quietly content,
as notes within the loons’ song.
Eyes closed, I drift within this space
and imagine myself to stay.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse where De asks us to write a poem that has to do with “blue.”
Photo taken this past week at Green Lake in the Adirondacks. I was indeed sitting on the porch of a rustic cabin at this beautiful remote site when I took this photo.
In the poem “blue” is used in the sense of “bluing.” According to Mrs. Stewart’s Bluing site, there are 300 shades of white; the most intense includes a slight hue of blue. Mrs. Stewart’s Bluing is a laundry aid used to “brighten whites.” Hence the idea of the blue sky making the clouds appear even more white!