Sunday, August 02, 2009

postcard from michigan (august 2, 2009)

Brown hair in two braids, head tipped back, you can almost hear the laughter as the little girl finds glee standing ankle deep in the midst of the colors and noise and bodies at the beach.

The rhythm of his breath
The wind winds through oaks
Car whips past, now two
Fan turns turns turns
My foot slips through blue sheets
A voice outside, now two
He turns away from the light
Finding me now
The rhythm of this life