Because the days are a jumble.
Because the sun is hit and miss and I’m catching light when I can.
It's Thankful Thursday — on Tuesday.
Joy contracts and expands in direct relation to our sense of gratitude.
What are you thankful for today? A person, a place, a thing? A story, a song, a poem? What makes your world expand?
* * *
A friend asks for signs of hope.
Daffodils, I say, a quick answer. Too easy.
Emily Dickinson, of course, hope is the thing with feathers.
Pussy willows.
Pear blossom.
Smooth hills of fresh green.
A young girl hands me a paper, folded and folded and folded again. Inside, in her loopy scrawl, a poem.
A good sleep.
A light wine.
I write a poem, and another. I can, I can, I can.
His easy laugh.
Jeans that fit.
A clean kitchen.
A baby tugs my hand, my hair, my heart.
A friend dies while listening to a poem.
It’s too easy, this hope. And too difficult, too.
When you look, you see. When you see, you feel.
The heart stretches to make room to grow.
Let me see, I plead, let me see more.
It is the season of fresh starts.
* * *
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The world turns on words, please read & write.