O, for a muse of fire

Inspiration, enough to succor generations of hungry senses, drops lustrous fruit, flings through mist on newish wings, rattles through morning’s weary engines,
falls about me on leaves tumbling down through
lemony air.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Family

In southeast Texas we run our AC's nearly all year round
just to keep the air moving.
If it's too cold, then the heater's going
keeping our houses toastywarm,
maybe too toasty if the sun comes out.
I like to open the window then, let in some cool air,
if it's not too cold, but still a bit too stiff to be called temperate.
Just as I open the kitchen window, the breeze comes in
hinting of spring. Like sipping a glass of cold water,
my eyes open a bit, a smile sneaks from my lips.

I get so used to this small world inside I forget
sunlight like lemons, the smell of fresh grass and rotting things,
the brightness that defies explanations. Every day is not edenic,
but when I open that window and Eve smiles, I remember about being.

It happens when I am with you all,
when no one is noticing much or trying too hard. A window opens
and we all laugh together and it's like the sun, bright in late winter,
a breeze soft and cool in early spring, a moment for a smile, unexpected.

A little something written for my family.

No comments: