His living room windows are down,

engine idling.

He knows I’ve gone this way before

so he asks how it looks

from the rear view.

It was bumpy and full of potholes, &

sometimes I still feel the jitter.

But once I laughed so big it outgrew the car, eeked out the sunroof,

& called in a long forgotten winter sun.

My husband grabbed his sketchbook &

held his pens like a sacred duty.

Not a single coloring of the sky, just picture after picture

of me.

The weeds take over sometimes.

The dirt buries when it must.

Like an ancient stone dial in the ground,

I can’t help what I’ve been built to do.

I never stop talking about the dark,.

but I only count the sunny hours.

Day 5/30 in partnership with CheerPeppers.come