I - ONE AT A TIME
What will you do with this bright sun that glares through the south window
and makes you open your sleep-sanded eyes?
You only get one day at a time.
All night the wind tossed the garden. The air is giddy with it. Dust to dust. See it whirling and sparkling in the light?
Make a space that fits you well. If you
feel hot and scratchy in that one, make another. Cool your skin with shade and scent of blossom.
Gather scattered leaves and petals, knowing absolutely that the
effort is futile, but never wasted. Hold them for a moment before the wind takes them; as, of course, it will.
II - DESIRE
I am not talking about the black cardboard cutout mountains pasted against the apricot-lavender sky showing off two bright stars.
I am not talking about them.