somehow the look seems to fall off your face

two days of sunshine and blue sky. blue it is, this illinois sky. it's the kind of sky that stretches and swells overhead, that scarfs up the gray in one toothy mouthful and swallows it back down into the horizon.

crawling in the grass jude samples leaves and sticks and the leg of the chair. henry shoots the tree with his stick. then he shouts, "yah!" and rides away on the stick into the sunset over between the lilac bush and the breezy evergreen. when we open the back door, bubbles and red ball in hands, we are slapped in the face with spring. we don't feel cold. i don't think about coming inside as soon as i can drag them away from stick and rock, squirrel and bird. warm enough to feel the sun on the tops of the hairs of my head.

"winter, begone!"

a green suited jogger, tight pants, curled hair, red sweatbands (one for forehead, two for wrists) bounces by. he looks over his shoulder and crosses the street, swinging his hair up over the sweatband with banded wrist. "jog for fashion!" he seems to shout at the house, the squirrel at the bird feeder, the crayon scratches on the window-glass, at the bespectacled me glancing up from my desk.

onward marches the day. between the a walk to the park and loaves of golden bread there is much to be read, much to be kissed, much to be started and finished.



what a day for a daydream
custom made for a daydreamin' boy.