Telling: Streams & Logs

Poetry

so it is

I have come to be happy in my bones, these rooms,
the hollow spaces I inhabit.

There is fit to my breathing. There is room
around everything.

After three sweet days of gray, a midday rain,
a blessing of white, 

and now this light has come to play, all crackling bright
and steaming, pouring color into everything.

I unfurl into the afternoon, great billows and fronds
of unwinding. Everything lets me.