There is no creativity in sunshine.
Absolute light in stripes and dots,
seeking meaning in descriptive plots.
Statistics and vibrations
have no place in conversations
about the weather.
If you keep looking at me like that,
gray eyes so warm and quizzical,
I’ll try to grasp some kind of meaning,
some sort of fleeting feeling
in your confusion.
the sharp back twinges and hits,
hips and elbows and fingertips,
grasping, reaching,
forever teaching
to be calm and content
in melancholy and nonchalance.
There is no creativity in sunshine.
Gray clouds add depth
to the skies, and your eyes,
add a level of complexity to our path,
avoiding rain using complex math,
spatial patterns, infinite maps,
lines and layers, moving fast,
seeking sunshine to escape the past.