This morning, on a walk, I almost stepped upon a jewel;
A fragment of robin’s egg so blue it seemed unreal.
Yesterday, or so it seems, the sheer absence of color,
A white so pure it gathered all light to hurt the eye
Had bleached the earth but left the sky as blue,
And this deep green evening, before the total color
Of night envelopes all that remains of a perfect day,
That fragment on my shelf, appears to be treasure,
A small piece of comfort against what comes.