a poem a day in the month of may
(The Liminality Journal: Kaitlin Curtice)
It would be better to write about sunlight
in the sunlight,
than in the gray overcast skies of afternoon.
But I remember
how the light changes as I wake
and consider moving downstairs.
And once there, how the light
stirs the birds to sing,
calling to one another,
“I am here!”
I remember the warmth
on the back of my very old dog,
how he stands, his head up
as his hips relax.
The sunlight in morning
smells fresh,
invites me into the day,
reminds me to notice —
*now*
because in the next minute
something shifts
and we are into the mix
of-it-all.
A Streak of Teal 