I step outside
to greet the day
my arms stretched out
across a lemon field
I breathe the spring
air into my lungs
filling up and letting go
I listen to the
symphony of birds
I watch the butterfly’s
dance with the dandelions
as my eyes blink in the
yellow light
I keep my precious things
caged within my chest
as my mind becomes clear
and the wind has grown tired
I am without prejudice
my arms are free to move
my legs are able to run
I catch my breath
I chase these words
I call it poetry
it is here that I write
it is here that I am
immune to the
sickness of the world …
Clay.M