Early morning sunshine
through the dusty window,
I step outside and it smells
like the rain from hours
The grass is still wet and it's
soft and cold against my bare
rising paper cutouts of sun
paint temperature into my arms.
From the backyard I can see
those mason jars in the window,
those colors of glass lit up in
light and renewal.
My small corner of the morning is
raw and real and honest:
it tells it like it is,
no secrets to hide.
This is, hands down, my favorite April poem to write by miles. Writing off of a photograph is so natural and so easy, and I also picked a gorgeous shot to use, which was just icing on the cake.
And while I'm posting, I'd like to wish a very (late, but nevertheless heartfelt) happy 21st birthday to cuileann and a wonderful, wonderful sweet sixteen to Summermoon.