The great expanse of the blue oversees everything,
even the highest mountains are subject to the blue,
as they stretch upward, in the morning haze.
The smallest ant forages,
hoarding for bad times, under the watchful eye,
of the blue.
The eagle soars, feeling the blue everywhere,
lifted up, strengthened and encouraged,
only coming back down for food and rest.
Mostly we ignore the blue,
unless we can capture it for ourselves.
I’d rather be an eagle,
but never the ant,
help me to live in the pastel.
Poetry © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree