Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy, and all the tricks my body knows ― the opposable thumbs, the kneecaps, and the mind clicking and clicking — don’t seem enough to carry me through this world and I think:From “Spring Azures” by Mary Oliver
how I would like to have wings — blue ones — ribbons of flame. How I would like to open them, and rise.
I will pull the sun from the sky for a rainy day if that is your desire. I will be a stool to rest your feet upon if ever they are tired. I will be the cure to your infection, the bandage to your wounds. I will be the gauze to your bleeding cuts and your…
