Passing It On

I bring my blue to the island.

I leave it along the path to the Community Shop,
the abbey, the graveyard, the new-builds and the Spar.

I lay it at the old stone cross,
scatter handfuls of it on wild garlic at the rookery.

The more I give away, the bluer I get.

I knit it into socks and scarves, paint it
into coastal scenes on canvas and on craft shop mugs.

One morning after breakfast I walk into the sea.

Nobody notices I’m gone.
Nobody sees the horizon breaking.