My toes are blue near the ends
Blue, like the lapis shadows thrown by sagebrush in the snow
Water, like my blood, cannot make up its mind
swirling slowly, ineffectually
Will I ever wear open-toed shoes again?
Red and brown toes, like the stones with vines curling round them
Water in my blood, blue and purple
the sunlight holding each molecule tenderly
Are life and death like that?
Seasons of sage and snow, white and grey
Water, grace moving slowly, blocked
The soul breaking through, dying on a golden day
And then, those days of sandals and blue
and green, and each flower, each wave a lover
and I, I leap like a child again, clothes left in a wake
and I look for You, for you, and you.
