Nearly 80 degrees at 10pm
And the sky begins to dance It’s beating a distant drum Not bothering to keep rhythm Its cadence not restricted by the concept of time Rolling for minutes on end I stare out my window Knowing that I should be trying to sleep Taking in flashes that blind me I blink away the remnants And I can’t help but think about... How the lightning reveals every crack in the sky And how I hope that I never get used to it And how I see the high winds bullying the trees But notice that the one closest to my apartment is strong and steady And that he must have been here a while So then I know that everything will be okay And how I refer to plants and animals with male pronouns And that I must somehow find comfort in that And how I hate the lights on the buildings Casting reflections in the glass of my windows Obstructing my view of the beauty before me And I see all of the people on the street driving And I consider that this probably isn’t special And how my coworkers or acquaintances may laugh at my sense of wonder And then I hope that I never get used to it God I hope I never get used to it
1 Comment
Terri
4/11/2021 03:33:40 am
Lovely!!
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AuthorHeather Jacobs is a creative professional with over a decade's worth of experience in content creation. Her skills range from, but are not limited to, creative, copy, instructional, and technical writing. Archives
January 2021
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