Friday, February 29, 2008

A Day Like Today

I could use more of them, days like today. Days where the yellow of the grass is starting to give way and if you look close enough you can see blades of green––actual grass, green and strong––poking through like exclamation points. Days when the park, which has been empty for so long, only a handful of visitors walking it daily, wearing the snow down bit by slushing bit, is suddenly full. Full of girls in shorts, white shoes, tight tanks, their hair pulled back as they jog. A team of them. Probably from the high school. The basketball courts full of boys. Shirts and skins like in high school, yellow Live Strong bands around their wrists. Days when the picnic areas are full of people grilling, moms and more moms overseeing the patties and dogs, clean smoke rising up around while dads and more dads play catch or chase squealing children and more children on tricycles and bicycles with training wheels. Days when the sun is so bright the geese flying overhead cast shadows, strong dark shadows which move swiftly across the rough surface of tree trunks and then break, like scattered puzzle pieces across each of the the naked branches, a kaleidescope of shadows united only by the sound of the flapping and honking cries from above. Birds seen through beveled glass. Days when the ants first appear on the sidewalks and along the wide roots of the trees, building cities above and underground, their shadows long, longer than their dreams. Days when the sound of a ball striking a bat is like music you've never heard but love the moment it meets your ears, a moment that changes life from black and white to Technicolor. A cliche. But on days like today all the cliches are real and true. True as hip-hop beats blown from cars as they glide past at speeds perfect for driving with the windows down. Days like these are days I live for, walks I relish, Duncan at my side, snow and cold forgotten things if only for now, those blades of grass stretching up to lick my ankles and remind me that Spring is coming, surely it is coming, no thief in the night. A glorious thing.

There are blades of green climbing through my spirit and all I can think is Tomorrow there will be more. Tomorrow there is more joy to walk through, fly through, fold around myself, breath and exhale. Breath and exhale.

1 comment:

Kevi said...

I loved your imagery about the trees..."like scattered puzzle pieces across each of the the naked branches, a kaleidescope of shadows". It was something new to my eyes.

I am about to correct student poetry books. I am afraid you have just set the bar too high.