Scarry Night

This morning,
this beautiful,
cool,
refreshing morning, 
I sat down in
a red recliner.
I sat,
and I wrote. 
My hands were typing,
while my eyes lingered
to the window,

Pink shoes.
They seem so simple,
they seem so small,
they seem so normal.
You can see these things,
these dainty,
wonderful things,
in many places.
A beaming young child,
jumping,
dancing,
laughing at the park.

One night,
one sweet,
silent night,
I looked up at the sky.
I saw stars,
brighter than ever,
and the moon.
On that night,
as I lay in bed,
my eyes threatening 
to close,
threatening to darken the world

March 1st.
The time has almost come,
when animals,
plants,
will awake from their slumbers. 
The time has almost come,
when honeybees will 
dance around the flowers,
making me inch so shyly away.

Many things fall,
leaves,
acorns,
rain,
but these,
I do not notice,
for there are pine needles. 
Small,
prickly things,
that hang
off of pine trees,
as if they are holding on
for their life.

Those summer days,
when my sister and I 
played tag outside. 
Those summer days,
when we sat in the grass,
watching the trees.
Watching them sway,
watching them dance,
to the wind.