Mistake it at first for the music
keeping baby asleep, the creaking complaints of the ceiling,
the zippers tumbling in the washing machine. Then smell it
from the window screen: confirmation. Nod to your husband,
with a glance toward the bassinet, then walk your bare feet
to the back door. Turn the knob,
exit your domestic world, and enter time
standing still. Feel it on your palms;
turn to the sky, and let it lick your face
like hundreds of hummingbird tongues. Taste it in your pores, an electric sizzle infusion.
Squish through the grass, blades clinging to your toes,
and start to twirl.
Arch your back and take in the sky as it drenches your body and wipes away your exhaustion.
See it so well with your eyes closed.
Know it deep inside you.
Creative Commons: mooode 1