So it's 3:25 am.
Two days before the big community presentation.
Here ensconsed at the office, blinds shut, stealing company resources.
Tired. Very very tired. But strangely happy, too, because the semester's almost over, I'm drinking a coke, and listening to the Shins. Did you know there are no barking sparrows? It was news to me.
In honor of my 49th wind, a poem:
He loves to move
and he’s begun to move me
inching me toward
something I didn’t know I still had
inside.
His toes are straight
but mine curl
and I’m unsure whether
his admittedly dexterous hands
can stretch
toe flesh
grow bone
where feet
strike the earth
and propel us forward
toward or away
from home.
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