Med ögon känsliga för blått: Denna fredagskväll

In ancient Greek there was no word for blue.
With azure sea and cloudless sky
Was blueness all around and so unseen?
Was there no sound to conjure up the hue
Of sapphires, turquoise, borage, gentians,
Flax, forget-me-nots or lapis lazuli?

My life is blent with blue
With Wedgewood, indigo, ultramarine:
From schooldays navy uniform and ink
And copper sulphate crystals; then the glimpse
On holidays of peacock, dragonfly,
Kingsfisher’s swing or haze of distant hills,
Grass blue with speedwell,
Bluebells and at home the blue
Of velvet, glass and gas flame. Why
Reduce all this to one short syllable?

Eleanor Nesbitt 1996