I just can't get my heart up on its legs today. Two days of spring in Staunton, and now a winter weekend of cold rain. My life has such small chapters: slipping into my Christmas boots to fill the feeder with greasy black sunflower seeds, walking to the porch to check the drizzle before a run, the deposits of salt in small piles where the snow has melted. I am asked such large, stick-in-your-throat questions about meaning, but my chest is so full of uncertainty and I'm rarely allowed to speak.
All I want is a few growing things. I ordered seeds and didn't realize until they arrive that everything I've bought is some shade of yellow: pale lemon sunflowers, golden cherry tomatoes, peppers that look like crooked fingers all in a cheerful shade like the inside of a peach.
No comments:
Post a Comment