Tuesday, May 20, 2014

"Finest lace there is."

Today, when I came home from work,
I had the strong urge
to run through my neighbor's sprinklers.

I made
the first smoothie of the year.

Even though I put in too much spinach,
it tasted like every gorgeous morning
of the past two summers.

I listened to my roommate talk,
and I considered how inherently interesting
people's lives are.

Then we went to a sandwich shop,
where I asked for a half order 
of garlic bread sticks,
and got an entire take-home box of manna.

We sat for ages
after we were done eating,
and told interesting things about ourselves
as children.

When we got home,
I decided I couldn't live another day
without rereading Dandelion Wine.

So I walked to my friends' house
to borrow it from them.
We had the most pleasant chat
and I considered how nice it is
to inherently like people.

I ended up on the wrong street
and got a glimpse of little naked two-year-old boy
as he was shutting his front door,
and that made me laugh.

When I got back,
I sat on my front porch reading,
but I felt like I could have been
in a nave or a temple.

No one would have been able to convince me
that his weaving of images over words
or of words into images
(I wasn't sure which)
was anything less than
worshiping the great Creator.

When I went to scripture study,
I could still felt pings of electricity
flying around my chest
like a bombardment of alpha particles.

I talked to someone
that I inherently enjoy being around.

And even now,
the sound of my roommate
picking up a leaf of paper
and putting it down again
is enough to almost bring
tears to my eyes.

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