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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