Cerulean

This afternoon, I was walking down the hill to Wiley Hall when I noticed something moving in the bushes to my right. I stopped to look, and saw a bird sitting on a branch. It quickly flew up into the shadows of the olive thicket, and all I saw was a blue streak across its back, bright like a cerulean crayon.

I thought of the last lines of Frost's "A Passing Glimpse": "Heaven gives its glimpses only to those / Not in position to look too close."