soft blue wind caresses ease in off the sound, the waters cool surface shimmers blue diamond rare, miles up in the air a trumpet slips glittering hard licks true & fast, slick as a moment eclipsed in a wink & quick as a hair-pin turn around, you’re looking out across the diamond-blue shimmering to a long low land mass rising & swimming out to sea, where the blue becomes a darker, deeper blue, where the land’s end is the brown-green sandy snout of whidbey island, seemingly swimming— a whale’s jutting head—out to sea & back over here green leaves brimming from branches & bushes are hands waving good bye, good bye, like farewells of weeping lovers, everything is serene over here, blue, green & brown, sun light dappling around edges, hard black masses— in the shape of shadows—spreading, over which one piercing bird call tingles, pricks the senses as it wheels, slices its double-winged comma shape right through the blue singing, like a solo of miles davis cutting right through clean to the heart, true as a surgeon’s scalpel, these moments are a shopping list of natural wonders, beauty, things we imagined leaping off postcards received from faraway, exotic places, most times somewhere over there, on the flip side of imagination & then bam! it’s right here, dead center in the blindspot of a glance, at the edge of where your eyes are looking, just now, where your vision fell just short & the moment completely escaped you |
© 2000 Quincy Troupe