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.