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Loves
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It Begins
It begins —
This thing call Spring —
With sunshine and birdsong
Slowly infused into everything.
It begins with
Deep brown rivers gauged in viscous dirt roads,
As the frozen ground thaws and overflows.
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to live is
to live is to see the sorrows of others
to long for the song of your mom
to stroke the head of your black dog
to live is to see the sorrows of others
to greet at the sound of your father’s feet
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The colors
There is a swirl of color that accompanies all things.
Every twist and turn, every fall and failure. All words spoken and sung, every smile or laugh.
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Bus thoughts
I envy those who’ve never known Loneliness.
She is not just empty space—she’s a presence,
cold fingers brushing the back of your neck
when no one’s watching. -