The Sun

I think that the sun has decided that it needs a little space.  Our relationship was just getting too intense.  I see it out the door of work all day, haning in the air, happily singing and showering others in warmth.  However, when I get out of work, zap… it’s behind a cloud or weak.  I can read the signs, I see how it is…

I used to have the reverse relationship with the sun.  I’d burn horribly if out in it for even a quarter of an hour.  I got blisters one year, even.  But now that I can take it (with a little sunscreen), now that I want it, the sun is in hiding.  I’ve driven it away. 

Perhaps I should worship the raindrops that are starting to splatter against the window.  I’ll probably go sit on the back porch and watch them fall.  It could be like getting back in touch with the past, the farmers we all originated as.  There are so many answers all around us, one has trouble keeping up. 

This lack of sun reminds me of the sun as an answer.  It could solve energy problems.  There is a new study linking obesity to climate control in our daily lives (ie furnaces and air conditioning,).  Everything in moderation.  I think it is bad to completely avoid the sun. 

once, my heart sang, too,

in a paris of the mind, where the Arc de Triumph                            
allowed the sun to pass beneath it, and Notre Dame 
cracked down the middle spilling coins and salt.

This wasn’t even an idea then,
this future when the sun burns and boils 
the skins of children to thick black crusts, 
this future when the sun will not fit thru man made arcs  
and the heart breaks for it.  You cannot see 
Paris if the sun will not come there.

Look at that, I drafted a little poem mid blog.  To be fair, it’s been drifting in my brain for a while and it is pretty rough.  But hey, I feel a little smug.  I think all this sun talk brought it out, that is a new element there. 

Whenever I think of Paris, I think of the first time I went there.  We had just been to Spain, where it was hot and there was a draught.  In Paris, though, It was freezing.  It was so cold I had to buy new clothes.  (but what better place for it than Paris, right?)  It is very dirty there, though.  it collects in your fingernails and nose, the dirt. 

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Filed under Musings, poetry, writing

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