Two poems by Susan Rich
Thank-you for sending me back
to the page, the open notebook,
along the table’s edge.
Thank-you for apricot blossoms,
beach rose and blackberry vines;
that allow bright divinations
along the nearly-absent mind.
And hats off to the green
and white ferries over-riding
time-tables, taxes, spring tides;
to the brant’s triumphant choir
casually premiering each April
above the waters of
above Vashon, Bainbridge, Blake,
like a flyway to the heart.
Outside this raised window
lie early morning charms
traveling the air on blue lilac —
terrestrial and round:
the notes we are meant to sing
the possibility in each slight thing.
Ode to the Question of Blue
As in delphiniums at dusk,
berries, fish, and
as in the changing days ~
blue corn, blue ray, blue tooth.
I almost knew you once ~
blue stocking, blue devil,
blue swoon ~ but better to come
to you now through canopied
rooms, to enter the cornflower
sky ~ where I will relinquish
indigo boots and stone-washed jeans
above a river of pine ~
bluebottles, blue miles, blue sighs.