Rainy Days
Wellness for me is a sky full of clouds set to boil over,
rain on the windows and grass, but never
inside,
In that magical moment when everything seems
warm and cozy and soft.
Inside, time stretches like taffy,
hours kept by
progress I’ve made on that book,
that painting, that crocheted project
(that I’ll probably never actually finish but is fun to
pull out when I have nothing else to do).
Nothing else matters but this:
Something burning, glowing in my chest,
singing through flesh and veins and all the gooey stuff.
In this space I’ve carved out I am wholly,
gloriously
content.
And so I craft and doze in this stolen moment,
Granted temporary reprieve from that
storm waging perpetually outside.
Because inside,
I can acknowledge that what I’ve created
feels remarkably close to bliss.