When Blue Is Blue Enough Poem by Sonny Rainshine

On some days the sky is not cerulean blue,
it is not azure or indigo, nor is it the tint
of someone’s grandmother’s antique ewer.

It cannot be compared to the aquamarine,
or the ultramarine of the sea,
or your lover’s memorable eyes;

It defies classifications on spectra
or color-wheels, spinning, spinning
the names of the layers of light.

On those days, we look up
and though astounded, we are content
to plunge through the labyrinth of words
and reconsider the sound and sense
of the unassuming word
blue.