Bluebirds

I often step out of the school into the sun.
It shines brightly on my face.
I can feel the warmth soaking in like steam rising from home-baked bread.
As I turn, I catch a flash of color out of the corner of my eye -
brighter than the sky, sparkling in a mirror lake.

The bluest blue, 
    the kind you see on paint chips at the hardware store...
    the kind in a child's story book that teaches the name of colors...
    the blue of suckers, Otter Pops, and sapphires in display cases...
    the one-of-a-kind 1970's blue of my Tux for a prom - velvet and satin...
    the color of lava lamps oozing through space...
    the color of a Sonic Raspberry Slushie or a bejeweled Elvis jumpsuit...
    the color of Blue Suede Shoes, Blueberry Hill, and Blue Velvet, so mellow and buttery.
 
Only this was the vibrant color of a bird.
No wait, there are more than one dancing in the tree.
I can't take my eye off of them.
I want to hold them in my hands and stroke their feathers and feel them breathe and then powerfully take to the air.

They are as vivid as memories of love, fun, and friends at special events.
Scarcely there, tucked in the edges of my heart
as welcome as love's first kiss.

I am so grateful for memories of Cobalt, Azure, Cornflower, and Indigo and for every small and beautiful carrier of them. They say that nothing is truly blue, only the reflecting and bending of light, but they are real to me.