“A WEAK WINTER”

The sun is out this morning. My blinds are pulled open. Sitting here, shirt off, I remember I’d forgotten how good it feels. All I need now is a twirping bluebird and maybe the hum of a lawn mower; I’ll be transported back to my childhood bedroom in Illinois. Playing with wood blocks, admiring how sunbeams cut through dust. The house I grew up in was always very dusty. Five humans and a dog; Constantly shedding hair, skin, fingernails, and other maladies of the living. But when the sun was out, it made all the dust a three ring circus, cart wheeling through the air, as I clap my hands in the spotlight. Back then, it didn’t take much to amuse me. Sitting here, shirt off in the sun, it still doesn’t take very much; Just a good sunbeam. Just a good cup of coffee, now. Just a good morning; Remembering the bluebird.

narrative poem written on 03-03-2012 by: on mattkane.com
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