Sunny Day

Today is a rather pretty day in Chicagoland, and I have spent a fair portion of it outside. I always have an issue this time of year with which poets to read and what music to listen to, the reason for this being that most of my year is spent in miserable winter, and all the music and poetry I consume takes on a tint of bitter cold. So, in Spring, I try to break out the bright colored arts, like Hopkins or Wordsworth. The question is, now that I write poems more often, how do I write more cheerful verse? It's a bit of a shift, but one that's quite pleasant to try and figure out. So, here's an attempt at a happier poem.

Some days you need poems

to slip between your skin

and the howling winds,

thick-knit wool that stays warm

even when drenched in tears;

Some days you need poems

to just sit beside you,

not speaking, reminding you

others once felt the same,

you’ll make it through;

Some days you need poems

to shut up and leave you alone,

you know what the hell

you're doing, no need for advice

save for stay the course;

But some days, this day,

you don’t need poems

one little bit – the sun

warms, the grass invites

companions, choices merely

posing what hour is best

for dining. On those days,

this day, I don’t have much

to say or write,

but I’ll gladly share

my seat upon the clovers,

and break my bread in two,

and, sitting there and eating,

we’ll turn again to poetry,

because we can,

because it’s there.