Ode to the Song of the Day
Thank you to the sun as it hits the puddles
filled with mud on the sides of the street.
To the little yellow boots that
splash in them.
Thank you to the bruise
on my knee
from swinging my legs up onto my bed.
The skin becomes a ripe plum target
with a tiny red pulse in the center.
Thank you to the coffee grounds
and humming sounds.
Sour and dark in my nose,
crisp and earthy on my tongue.
Thank you to the flies
buzzing around my room.
To wings that brush the surfaces
of my being;
books and shirts and pens and trash.
They sing their working song,
their voices steadily escaping
from their bellies
filled with grime.
And this tune belongs only to them.
By Gracyn Carter
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