Warm weather has me searching for clothes~
Loose, cool, natural fiber,
Cotton is best.
I walk in slow meditation,
Gently playing duck, duck,
duck, duck, duck
Through the whites
I smile at azure, cerulean, indigo,
Eyes drinking in the shades.
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I have in my hand a find:
Made in India.
Tiny green butterflies hover among tinier leaves,
And I can feel their breath on my skin.
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I can’t stay here too long;
I am sensitive to the atmosphere.
It is the last stop before oblivion,
Harbor of the unwanted.
Sorrow sings through my veins~
The resonance of recognition.
I can’t stay long,
But I return every few weeks
With my faith in redemption intact.