It’s in the way my pulse quickens,
the way the inside of my skull feels larger than my head,
the catching of my breath.
Possibilities spread out before me,
seeds blown off a dandelion,
scattering on the wind.
Which one will I catch,
which eddy will I float on,
going who knows where?
I pick up my brush and load it with color
my skin turning inside out and outside in again.
If I didn’t need to be still,
I’d leap with joy
this very minute,
and that’s all the proof I need.
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
