The Poem

Electric Sky Blue

Born in Autumn, in the crisp air of mid-October,

It takes you to places far away, with cypress trees and gravel paths along hillsides,

With medieval towns across the valley.

Places that have stood still for centuries,

With grasses blowing in the quiet all around.

It sits with the morning, still in its freshness and

Full of possibility for what a day could hold.

It longs for life, for adventure, for full breaths deep inside your lungs.

For running and jumping into a pile of crunchy leaves, with a child-like delight.

It hides the gray, the stormy, the deep rumbling that is still there.

It is not like the dark midnight, with all its shadows and anxiousness.

It nods along to a song of exuberant joy,

With an intoxicating beat you can’t help but dance to.

Constantly shifting and morphing, round, plump, malleable.

It moves with leaps––bold yet graceful.

It befriends the rustling leaves in the trees, with the branches that frame it and

Bring out its electricity, its truest form, its most vibrant hue.

Caroline Owen