morning feeling of aug 21

Weary morning,
on the porch,
humid and cool,
grey and green.

a bit uncomfortable,
in my skin,
in my clothes,

a bit sad,
a bit scared.

Yesterday I felt better.

Crow cawing,
small birds chirping in the trees... such a familiar sound;
the sound of cartwheels on the grass,
of chalk on the sidewalk,
of small bodies and infinite futures.

a bit too familiar,
a bit too reassuring,
a bit too nostalgic.

but not much of anything.

The cawing ends,
the birds flitter away to somewhere better.

I'm tired on the porch,
alone, and free as the birds,
but fearing the bumblebee buzzing near my writing hand.

It buzzes away,
and my pen didn't capture this morning quite right,
but I never really told it to.