Blue Is The Sagebrush Poem by Smoky Hoss

Blue is the sagebrush
at early dusk.
-There is a ghost
upon the Western wind
tonight.
I don't hear it,

I feel it.
The breeze longs
in the poverty of it's lonesome spirit
for a voice of it's own,
a song of hope and direction
to soothe the torments
of the soul.
I smell the sage, and am aware of lack.
Strange the way
a smell brings an unknown memory,
as if reassuring;
like feeling the presence of love,
though in an empty place,
or the sound of a sweet voice
not quite heard,
and yet
there. Calmly calling.
Blue sagebrush speaks
of what is real,
beyond the staid practicality
of being a rational thing.
When one smells
the sage of the wide open West,
one will remember
with surprising joy,
the glory of life -
love!

Blue is the sagebrush
at early dusk.
Blessed is the heart that notices
before the dark consumes us.