My toes trace a lazy waltz
under shimmering rays of fading afternoon.
Slowly, gently, I am bathed in twilight,
and the warm hardwood tingles like home again.
The sunset cracks the horizon orange and scarlet and magenta,
creating living embers winking in and out of reality.
I hear laughter in the wind, feel electricity
in the clouds: fleeting, a thunderstorm
setting my atmosphere ablaze with July energy.
I sit in the evening crook of my rooftop,
watching the sun drip below the skyline.
Pinhole stars in a hazy indigo, a sleepy blanket,
late nights under the disco heavens and
me, penning madness,
carving heart into the clouds between shallow breaths and constellations.
I am the flickering diamond residue of the evening;
I condense coal against yesterday’s bland exhale and
surrender rapidly to black.
Early sunlight peeks up from behind jagged trees,
leaks in through the holes in the curtains,
allowing soft baby light to wash my bedroom.
I breathe a ‘thank you’ into the monsoon-wake of the morning and
rise to become more than just a freckle on the Earth’s shoulder blades.