The brave act of desire

Some days are long
and each tiny sin pounds
upon me like a heavy drop
of rain.

I don’t know what comes next.

We lose pieces
of ourselves out
in the world but
then we come home
and try to gather
ourselves back
together.

You are in
the backyard
on the tractor
mowing.

You are clearly delighted
and though I want to relish
my bad day, your smile infects.

Later in the
darkness I tell
you how my hopes
make me afraid.

How I have felt it
before, and the loss
that comes after.

We discuss the brave act of desire.

The warmth of
summers coming
makes me want
to drive our country
roads with the
windows down,
red hair swirling,
singing loudly
to the radio.

Though I am
comfortable with
the ridiculous,

I know that this
takes practice
and I cannot
hope to arrive
without it.