Laboring Seasons

Dear stars, come soon, wrap your light around me in a way where I am blinded.
Vibrations like magma, you crawl with anxiety. A quarter century and some change, rattle in your pocket.

Your fingers brush against the curtains as you wait, sun rise then set.
Holding on to the cotton fibers you swing forward; then out the window.
Hair tangles in the leaves as you've met your landing in thorned rose bushes.
Pale skin, light blue then dripping red as you thrash about.

The Galaxies are contracting.
Push. Breathe.
Dancing Dancing Dancing.
Summer Come.
With the hysterical moon rushing in, soothed.
The sun has wrapped her warm arms around you.

Arrive. Our Sweet Summer Solstice.

-June 20th 2013.
Saree McClaran.