Between the striped walls of the canyon
Burns a crescent of blue water, arresting, poignant:
Jewel-blue,
soul of opals and sapphires;
Feather-blue,
stain of indigo on the peacock’s breast;
Flame-blue,
color that hovers above the copper-saturated drift-
wood in the beach-fire.
And the tall white poppy down the canyon
Sways against the blaze
Like a ship.

— by Grace Hazard Conkling (1878-1958)