Antigua Blue

The gate left open again
and the sheep have escaped to the back pasture;
the grand collies with them.
When the McAllister sisters step outside,
they will say, Not the way to begin our morning.
Yes, the sky is blue-eyed clear,
the lake behind their foothills sapphire and sunlit,
the monument in their yard large enough to see from the air.
We will be landing in about five minutes,
my rental car will be waiting and I'll be on my way.
In no time I'll be on their unpaved road through their pastures
colored with Delphiniums, chicory, blue specked grass,
lavender roses, blue violets, fields of teasel.
I haven't seen them in a half dozen years and I can't wait.
They gave me a polished teal agate on my seventieth birthday
and I glance at it now and laugh. Memories
of when we first met in Antigua as teenagers flow into me.
We went para-skiing together that afternoon and afterwards
described the ocean as a merging of shades of blue.
I already have my planned schedule memorized.
Probably have to fix the gate again, help round up the sheep,
compliment Sarah on her accidental blue hair,
Sam on her long hair braided with blue striped lace,
and complete a number of chores they have ignored
happy to be with them in their house of beautiful blues.