Because the fields held me, because the scent of long cool grasses never left my clothes, because I knew of a tree that would lean against my back when I was at my weakest, I went that day. There were two shades of blue in the late afternoon – the blue of sky and the blue of knowing. One nurtured until the other could find its way. When you told me you had seen too much, when you said you had lived too long, when your god agreed with you, I couldn’t find rest. But beneath the tree amid weaving buttercups, the wind cried your name for hours, and loss eased. As I stood to walk home, my path was lit by stars floating within night fields. And my sleep that evening became a child’s whose only blue was sky.