One of my favorites. Appears in nature, but rarely. Crisp. Clear. Slightly lilac. A (very) little white. Back to school dresses. Very rare flowers. Corn flowers. Nothing corn about it. Animated flowers. When paired with yellow, clear crisp yellow it is perfect. Or white.
Though it is the cornflower blue I seek to think of I close my eye and see yellow. A field. Waving in a breeze. Edged by trees that offer shade as needed. She lays on her back, in the sun on the blanket she brought from her trunk. Stretched out as long as she can, daring the sun to kiss her. Her knee length skirt of cornflower blue linen is hiked up a bit to maximize exposure to the sun’s warming rays. Crisp, white cotton cap-sleeved blouse thin enough to let the sun seep through. But the whiteness filters out just a little bit of the warmth. Her hair, that I thought would be brown is blond instead. She is laying there. In peace. Seeing the clouds through her closed eyelids. It is quiet at first. But as she lays there she becomes aware of the other sounds. The hum of the bees moving past on their journey between the scattering of flowers that have come up as weeds through the field. A faint breeze stirring the leaves of the nearby trees and the blades of the grass. The birds calling out to each other amongst the trees on the edge. They are talking of the intruder: blue, white and tan stretched out low in the field over there. At first they were alarmed but it’s been so long since she moved that they have almost forgotten about her. All of her effort is focused on trying to stay in this moment: forced awareness. She will not let her mind wander to the things that want to steal from the peace. This takes all of her effort but she is determined. To do this she floats above, level with the top of the trees. Up near the birds. She becomes the bird that is assigned to watch over her. And she looks down to see herself. Because she is a bird and unfamiliar she doesn’t allow herself any associations to what she sees. Sees only exactly what she is: what the birds see. No judgement, but even to the birds, pleasing to the eye. Naked of feathers but not naked. Blue, but not the sky. White, but crisper than an egg.. Tan, but paler than a worm. The straw of her hair, but silky. Large enough to be scary but inert and so not.
Though it is the cornflower blue I seek to think of I close my eye and see yellow. A field. Waving in a breeze. Edged by trees that offer shade as needed. She lays on her back, in the sun on the blanket she brought from her trunk. Stretched out as long as she can, daring the sun to kiss her. Her knee length skirt of cornflower blue linen is hiked up a bit to maximize exposure to the sun’s warming rays. Crisp, white cotton cap-sleeved blouse thin enough to let the sun seep through. But the whiteness filters out just a little bit of the warmth. Her hair, that I thought would be brown is blond instead. She is laying there. In peace. Seeing the clouds through her closed eyelids. It is quiet at first. But as she lays there she becomes aware of the other sounds. The hum of the bees moving past on their journey between the scattering of flowers that have come up as weeds through the field. A faint breeze stirring the leaves of the nearby trees and the blades of the grass. The birds calling out to each other amongst the trees on the edge. They are talking of the intruder: blue, white and tan stretched out low in the field over there. At first they were alarmed but it’s been so long since she moved that they have almost forgotten about her. All of her effort is focused on trying to stay in this moment: forced awareness. She will not let her mind wander to the things that want to steal from the peace. This takes all of her effort but she is determined. To do this she floats above, level with the top of the trees. Up near the birds. She becomes the bird that is assigned to watch over her. And she looks down to see herself. Because she is a bird and unfamiliar she doesn’t allow herself any associations to what she sees. Sees only exactly what she is: what the birds see. No judgement, but even to the birds, pleasing to the eye. Naked of feathers but not naked. Blue, but not the sky. White, but crisper than an egg.. Tan, but paler than a worm. The straw of her hair, but silky. Large enough to be scary but inert and so not.
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