COLUMBIA BLUE

Blue—Columbia Blue.
What blue is that indeed?
Perhaps it is the blue of skies,
the blue of wondrous needs.

Or could it be the blue of thought?
The blue of solid ground?
Perhaps it is the skills yet sought,
the knowledge yet unbound.

I do not know! What could it mean?
I wish for it to tell.
Perhaps it is the blue unseen,
the blue that does not dwell.

Or could it be the light of stars,
the plains of overseas?
Perhaps it is the place of ours,
a rest to use as please.

I do not know, Columbia Blue.
What lies beneath its face?
Is it a gale of ocean hues?
An art without time nor place?

What could it be? I do not know.
I have not the slightest clue.
But perhaps it is a field yet plowed,
the dreams we have yet pursued.