Thursday, April 12, 2012

Picnic in the Park

I don't do a lot of photo posts, so I figured one wouldn't hurt... Right? 

Monday at around 3, Trey came and picked me up and I went on a date with him. It started with a Chick-Fil-A picnic in the park, then to the movie theatre to see "21 Jump Street," then a surprise trip to the mall to get Dairy Queen Blizzards and go to the arcade.

It was so much fun.

It's had me in smiles all week. I hope you had a wonderful week as well!

Saturday, April 7, 2012

The Birds

At 16 miles-per-hour, the wind still doesn't feel so strong. Instead, it feels soothing--it brushes past me, it moves through me. I stand still to enjoy it. The sun is untouchable today, just the way I like it.

"You enjoy it. I'm in a cold, tiny room," Chelsea says. Her brother is expecting a son, and they still have to wait two centimeters before they can hope to meet him.

I follow where the wind takes me. Then I hear the birds--soft coo's and hum's from somewhere above. I never can spot them when they perch--hidden safely in the branches. The smallest ones chirp brightly. I wish I knew what they were saying.

A mysterious, brown cloud floats overhead.

"Pollution," Shanequa says, after joining me outside for the lovely day. I turn to Shanequa: "I'm not ready to join forces with environmentalists yet." Nothing can ruin my beautiful day.

The cloud makes the sun shine pink through the soot, and I admire it. They say even the beautiful colors of the sun setting are from pollution, too. If I can admire that, I'll admire this.

The sun is hidden from sight, and the birds begin to chirp louder. I hear them and look to the sky to find the flock flying over me. I wonder where they are going. Such freedom. Such disregard for all else--just their flock and their destination. On a beautiful day like today, I wish I could join them. Just float somewhere new. Somewhere with weather like today year-round; somewhere my worries can be left behind.

If only change was as easy for me as it is for the birds.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Howl At the Moon

I know I don't usually do poetry, but I used to write songs and poetry all the time. You can blame this on my muse of the night, Eisley.

The moon changes faces
Few pay attention anymore
But I still watch each night with admiration

I don't wish on stars
No ball of gas can comfort me
No light strong enough to overcast the One inside me
But I still find its presence significant
Even after so many nights before

The moon winks at me
I smile back, politely
I fall asleep knowing hope is in tomorrow's wake

Across the way a young boy sighs
Looking past the moon
He howls into the dark

He still can't find the Light
So he howls at the moon
The tricky, reflective sphere in the sky

Dashing between the clouds, the moon dances
I hear the boy's howls from miles away
I press my finger to my lips
"Watch," I say gently
"Watch the moon sway!"

The moon changes faces
Few pay attention anymore
But together
In different places
And for different reasons
We will watch tonight
I pray he finds admiration in its eyes one day like I