The sweat of the Sun licks my window pane, there are droplets of wonder filling holes in my rib cage. These lips are wet with grape juice, and I feel happier than a flask~brushing drunk. Everyday, there are so many things to celebrate. Today, there is a tuned guitar, warmed oats, milk, bare legs, a river calling, and a bucket of blueberries.
Here, I wear my dancing skirt. I can twirl by the garden. I can bow to the doves.