Blue pools in the fields
come after a good rain.
But they don't ripple
when a rock is thrown in.
These pools can wave,
but only in the wind.
They are not roundish,
but stand in neat rectangles.

The blue pools are not water
but fields of blooming flax,
that spindly, gentle flower
that gets beaten into strong
fibers and woven into
smooth and cool cloth.
The cloth of my blue dress
that flows in the spring breezes.