Suddenly you are washed
With gratitude for waking
With the sun and a light breeze
One morning in July.
Seven pains, originating
In various organs or perhaps
Your imagination, ascend,
Like Jesus, into the sky.
The flowering apricot,
Whose blooms appeared
Like a miracle in February,
Runs the keyboard
Like Jerry Lee Lewis
On "Great Balls of Fire."
You close the door
On your library of regrets,
Do seventy sit-ups and step
Outside to a choir of birds
Informing each other
Of their continued existence
On this planet hurtling through
Empty space and the remnants
Of "I Love Lucy" sent out
Into the universe in 1957.
A three hour meeting about
Human Resources waits for you
Tomorrow, but the breeze lifts
You up and carries you to an oak branch
Where you look down on the neighborhood
And realize you can fly. A robin floats
Down beside you and says:
"What took you so long?"
Atlanta, July 3, 2010