I'm so cold
yet I'm never as bold
as to ask
for your warm hand.
I yearn for heat
and yet can't beat
that one task;
too salient to land
on an action.
I wake up on the risen sun
nose red as it runs.
Shaking, I rush to the washroom
to allow hot water to turn my hands
as red as my nose.
There is the heat I was looking for.
She is a lark
ripping the bark
as she takes off.
A missed sight
into the night.
Mother weeps for her.
The lost child
gone in the wind.
Intuition works off our biases. By that, I mean our brain takes visual clues from the environment to conclude what is going on. Most of intuition must be subconscious, too.
It was that class—
Physical education—
where I experienced it
for the first time.
The opposing team,
all boys,
were cheering me
to go to the basket.
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