Soak Up The Sun

Like moss sopping up moisture, I crave to soak in what’s left of this day. So while my body feels heavy under me and my mind frees of details and demands, I move closer to the sparked fire.

I sit in spring’s chill listening to croaks increase with the pace of the wind.

Without earth’s motion, simply being is the goal.

I soak.

All the aches and cares and should, could, woulds be damned. When they ask me my regrets, I’ll hold my head high and say, “None”.

I want to be a good writer, like the good little girl I am.

So stay within the lines and never stray out of sight?

I want to be a good writer; the words echo in my ear.

I realize “goods” duffel bag is jam-packed with connations that try as I might won’t go back in.

So I dump it all out and try my hand again.

Good is natural, organic, and true. It feels like me, myself, and I. Though and through. It’s not doing too much, nor too little, you see. It’s the bulls-eye, the sweet spot, and it feels like floating.

I want to be good. I want to be me. For now and all my days.

Love, Jaclynn

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