Light

Stalking the sun,

it paints the dirt before me

like a reckless Pollock

 

The colors splatter

against the trees

and freckle my skin

 

Birds cry out for attention

and I give it to them

(you say I have a hard time saying no)

 

I have always chased the light

as if it’s something to be caught

 

But what difference does it make

if it steals my eyes

when I see how the world could be

and not how I have known it

 

5-7-19