I dream I cannot run. Though I try, my legs are in metaphorical treacle. I wish to run, I know it is a dream, so I dream in a dream I can pour through the air swiftly like light across a morning. To feel the globe tumble beneath me, to feel every sea and tree as they pass. But alas, I can run faster in reality than in my dreams.


Once high singing the song of flight
the air my anchor no strings on my kite
one stone from another in malice and mirth
splintered feathers have me tumbling to earth.


I love the turn of the leaves, the dark chill mornings
but I don’t want to hear of Autumns approach
until I have had my fill of warmth
I’m a quart down on warmth.


The rain shower feels good on the face
refreshes the earth, bringing forth its fresh aroma
invigorates the soul, washes away our spills
after a drought, after the sun, I love the rain
but, enough rain already.


The sun has finally splintered the clouds, shards of light sear the damp away
once oppressive, the sky breaks open revealing a hazy golden day.




One thought on “Warmth

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