The sun has been feeling me wonders as of late. Spring tends to be the wet and the grey so glimpses of sun I stuff into my eye backpacks and soak into my skin. I teeter on my window ledge to watch the sun rise and I sit on my back balcony when it sinks. Catch the every drop that I can. Mood food.
Sun blows itself onto my hair strands,
I am peace and I am wild.
Goose me more rays and I’ll pull down the whole sun. Just to feel that glow so easily won.
I picture sunlight that hasn’t hit horizon yet to be able to call it setting but in the sky, bright and small, not big and hot, but glowing and warm and nice.
the sky not black. not bright blue sky. not cheesy sunset orange either. but this faded, darker yellow. warmth… with depth.
And i picture you half-silhouetted, half blurry, half in frame of the polaroid being taken, half out, but smiling huuuuuuge.
You may be something different to me then what you really are. But you’re still real. To me.
Waking up before son, but not before sun- she can’t wake if she’s never slept.
It’s nice for the land and animals to catch what she touches before I do.
I go to welcome her a few times a year. I think I want it to be more; she always tells me she appreciates it when I appreciate her.
Just to hear the train whistle and the morning birds caw their way through a gossiping cluster, I sit awake in the middle of the week.
I need to get still so I can be better.
I need to breath deeper so I can locate patience.
I need to enter my conscious before I access my vocals.
People like fire for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, they even like it for passion and direction. For motivation and drive.
Not for the flare in the eyes or the tone of the sound. Not when flames mean the lash and the scold. You end up burning your own feet.
So sun, I know you’re hot but can you help me cool my insides.
So son, I know you’re seven, but can you help me be five.
There were no fires there. There were no fires then.
Sunday morning Caesars
while centipedes shower under the silver sky.
More then a sprinkle,
they’ll be spotless and squeaky;
all their shoes on
sure to play soccer
when the sun decides to show.
Sun creaks into overdrive in another part of the earth
the remenants here slowly falling asleep
drowsing the city with it’s echoed lullabies.
Stepping slow onto a different land
dreams burst vision in our heads
and like sun, our overdrive begins.
8:28am, the earliest I’ve been out running this year with my touqued head and booted foots.
There were bits of snow falling- as if the sky couldn’t decide whether or not it was allowed to birth these tiny white freckles.
I ran hard again and my nose was cold
but the sun was shining.
The sun is always shining somewhere.
Downloaded some dancable runnable-funnable music for todays exercise and it was what I needed to boost up my level. Pulled son in steel wagon again, hopped over the puddles and was not so great at my hand stands today. Sinking in an inch of mud or having pebbles ground into palm didn’t exactly help. Sun was shining though and it landing on my body was the best place any airplane of sun could land.
High Fiving to day Five!
There’s a cradle filled with hope,
and a dirty that holds soap.
There’s a window full of moon
and a sun
I’ll scrub the windows clean
and I’ll take one for the team.
I’ll make the bed; for what it’s worth
I’ll do my best,
nor the worst.
Hold me up to shining light
see through me and find no fight.
Shut the blinds and search my room
find nothing but
a sun in ready-bloom.
as float as this can get.
Power anchors to flight,
the sky has clouds
and a sun that lights;
a day and more.
Floats the night
to skydom soar.