#3

Color: Blue

Dec. 3, 2010

Song: "Cool" Anthony Hamilton feat. David Banner

The color of cool.

The color of jazz, sly glances, and cocktails.

The color of feathery fans and chill breezes.

The color of the peahen, Diva Blue and her lovely diva blue plumes.

Yes, the blues are generally reserved for her fowl brothas but the Diva Blue snuck some flash and pop for herself and struts about the room with swing and swag. The Diva Blue fans out her feathers, inviting others to admire...and touch.

"No, no...don't pull at me...don't tug. I'm delicate, despite my strong exterior and proud posture. I'm still a peahen with peacock tendencies. Handle with care."

The Diva Blue smiles a peacocky smirk and continues her stroll.

The peahen strides outside her comfort nest and finds the intoxicating company of a butterfly...light and free...flying about. Caught...mesmerized by the butterfly's rich dark colors and wispy grace, the peahen stays close to the colorful faerie.

"I wanna fly with you," the peahen whispered to herself about the butterfly. The butterfly, in shades of blues and pinks, purples and greens, had two lovely, soft brown eyes...one on each wing. The Diva Blue watches the Blue Air Faerie soar high and float low and close. She seems to tango with the moonlight, making her eyes shimmer...almost twinkle like shining jewels.

The peahen can only whisper and watch...cooing and sighing with every dip and turn. She flies by the peahen, gently grazing the Diva Blue's feather tips, opening all of the peahen's eyes. A lovely display, these two colorful creatures in a room where there was none. There was no one for the peahen but this butterfly.

Though a bird, the peahen remains grounded...the proud bird losing interest in taking flight or going anywhere.

"Fly by me and fragrant cool moves gently over my face...making me dizzy," whispered the smitten and now shy peahen. What happened to all of the peahen's flair and show? What happened to the boastful bird with the Diva Blue plumes? She has met her indigo muse, her cobalt match and all she can do is smile periwinkle.

Head up and swirling, trying to keep pace, the butterfly lands by flowers, pretty dresses...chill with lady bugs. The peahen feels big, wide, awkward. All this pride is heavy to carry. The peahen turns, pulls two of her feathers and lays them down on the sweet, soft grass.

"You may fly about and mesmerize the masses. You may flutter and wave your wings, breezing close to many admirers. But when you want rest...and comfort...a place to be quiet and still...and still loved...look for my eyes. They will welcome you home."

The peahen closes her feathers and satisfied with a lovely evening, goes home to her own nest.