Some Days

I open the window; another day is born.

How am I to use it? What can I make of it?

My thoughts are stiff, my hands are soft, and I am tired already.

The light comes down to paint me and I try to let it in. I try to feed it to my bones. But it is a trial of trying, trying, trying.

There are some dead greens on the sink.

They are beautiful lying there in the darkness.

The light is creeping in again and it whispers something, but the wind outside is loud and strong and I can barely hear its words.

It is evening now, and I walk towards the kitchen counter.

I am surprised by its reflection; where does this picture come from?

A sky alive in light and a tint of green English valleys.

How did this escape me?

My eyes are heavy as I open the shelf.

I love the sky at sunset. The day is over with and I can breathe again.

So much rush and fuss about the day, the night comes gently to peace me in.

The body

is calm and homely now,

the chair awaits,

I close my eyes and feel the fresh breeze of night.

* Photography by me

* Text by me