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What I Love

Pocket Rocket

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Sunshine; when it breaks through the gaps between the leaves, when it wakes the morning haze, when it brushes past the fields of wheat in sway. I love just the right amount of rain, the way it coats the ground; I watch the footsteps of the public dance above the sheen, and when the lights come on, the pavement turns to gold, glittered over everywhere; the drops like silver bullets through the air.I love the contours of a silhouette against the misted reaches of this city’s winter shades, sullen in a pretty way. I love the sea, grey like stone and flowing - vast, untouchable, untamed. The bird outside the window at 3 (a.m. that is); a love-hate thing, he keeps me up and keeps me company. Feeding the squirrels every week, delighted at how they pick my gifts between their teeth so gently. I love blood because it bleeds. I love that I can smile, love still more that I can feel it stretch when it’s received. I love the pain, I have to; it won’t leave – I love that someday it will. The silky sound of music on someone else’s breath, the smell of freshly baked bread. I love it when I understand. I love pretending I hear crickets in my head; I miss them on days like this. I love it when I feel the breeze touch against my back on a hot day at the beach. I love that I’m alive; love that I live; I love that I can give and give and give.

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