So many swallows,
and the warblers are back.
This morning is
outside of time.
I close my eyes,
and you ask the questions.

It is a waking day,
a celebration day —
hints of summer
in the blessing sun.
I open my eyes,
and don’t know how to answer.

We grow serious
among the frolic.
I would give you all three,
but fear such tests of truth.
So instead,
I hold your dirty hands.

And I promise
I will not ask you
what you wish for,
if you promise
not to ask me
who is my muse.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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