Soft

today there is sun

soft gentle spring light

begging me to close my eyes

so that I can absorb the silence of the day

a gentle breeze pushes

against my eyelids

thrumming red

my lashes

are lightly dancing

I hear chores calling but I cannot tolerate their noisy clamor

instead I focus on birds

happily clattering

while distant windchimes transport me

back in time

when

on other sleepy Sundays

newspapers were unfurled and refolded

then devoured section by section

style, funnies, editorials, opinions

and

the crossword

challenging us to fail

coffee pots were a thing then

and inside jokes

morning breath

flannelled power struggles

around ancient pajamas

that no longer cared

wallpaper danced behind laminate countertops

a skillet hopped

mad with oil

unseen, it sizzled

the morning sun lighting

on window sills and bookcases

soft in some places

others with knife sharp edges

later

we packed up the coffee pot

and the frying pan

someone canceled the paper

I miss being a part of a family

I know that’s a lot to get from a windchime

and the first sun of spring

hitting your eyelids like a hug

but this is who I am

in here