We Are Growing Old Together

This day, so beautiful,
bubbles up towards the heavens.
It rides the gusts of wind upupup
like a gravity-defiant brook or
the bits of breath behind a prayer.

The things you do will not
surprise me,
though I try to be jaded.

Utterly simple,
you will not strut about
with your blessings:
a friendly wink,

a coyly given phone number…

a bus ride,

four miles finished,

eggs and toast and mmmmmm, coffee,

sunshine and shaded chairs,

hipster girls,

articles about Africa,

phone lines to North Carolina,

big water bottles,

bare feet

and newly shorn hair.

In these coincidences,
my heart’s fiery embers are stoked.
Simmering quietly,
as a child just entrusted with a secret
and struck by your vastness,
I am left to
let my thoughts swim about the warm air of this
frenzied Sunday.

Then I’ll realize that heaven is here,
in this city place -
just jumps away from the blue skies above
and eternity.