Patter down to the creek

Hold the stare of the deer pausing

Waiting… Waiting

The music rises me from bed
My hibernation broken
My eyes shut for months
Finally break open
Eggs cracking against a countertop
My legs begin to shake
As if they haven't moved before
My back is bundled up inside me
Like a spring fully pushed in
My mouth breathes hot breaths
That sour the air around
In an immense discomfort
I rise for the day
I stretch my feet to stand on toes
To teach my legs to move again
Throw my hands to touch the ceiling
Let the spring of my back unwind
And stretch from floor to ceiling
Rub my eyes to brush away the shells
That shut my eyes too soon ago
I brush my teeth to cool the heat
And let the tension fade
The pressure in my arms and legs
Flows through the stretch and out my toes
My back is bouncy freely now
The spring determines where to go
My breath is cool and comfortable
With mint to taste as cold as snow
This is not a ritual
It may just be for one today
From sleep to wake
Discomfort to comfort
The music rises me from bed

Blue tapping line
Quivering pen

Ten thousand things
In ten thousand words

Mouths from here and there
Lights in front and far away

A magic dust that can't been seen
With eyes that wait

Wait for the line to speak
Wait for the pen to write

Those who drop the pen
Shut the cap
Break in half
Cuff their pants
Run the sand

Running in patterns made of lines
Shapes made anew

Lines and shapes for just today
Today for broken pens
Today for ten thousand things
Today for ten thousand words

If the skies should open
I would glow
Every nerve a bit warmer
The plane that is my sense of touch
On jumping pegs of jollity

And if the skies should drop
I would laugh
Comfort leaving for comedy's sake
The plane that is my sense of touch
Taught to reflect the world around

The skies hold
Police cars race by
The people planes and cars trot behind them
Grass jitters in a cold breeze to my right
Water sways to emulate the dance of the grass to my left
Cold stone holds me parallel
To skies that may open
To skies that may drop
To skies that hold
All for now

The grey taps the shoulders
Of the tallest buildings
The blue sits above
The green-yellow-white

To the left side of the bus
Sits the city
To the right side of the bus
Sit clouds-flowers-dead grass

On either side
The grey of the sky over the city
The yellow of the fields
The white of the clouds

I struggle with my shadow
It makes me as a border
Between me the grass and man
But I see the shadow beside me
Black as mine
Shaped as mine
A human shadow
The color of mine
As much mine as his
And I see the shadow in front of me
Black as mine
Not shaped as mine
A tree's shadow
The color of mine
As much mine as his
I thank my shadow
It erases my borders
Between me the grass and man