Silhouetted You

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.

Warmpth.

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.

Son and the Sun

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

High Five for Day Five

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!

Ready-bloom

There’s a cradle filled with hope,
and a dirty that holds soap.
There’s a window full of moon
and a sun
in ready-bloom. 

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,
not better
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.