the day breaks a grin like porcelain hot, with a wind like laughter blowing through your long hair apple blossoms, recklessly strewn, little poems little prayers, I whisper in the morning, afraid to disturb the glassy waters of a new day, to step like a stone, to skip class, play, wanton like a child, to braid dandelion sentences into a story shaped like a crown, light as a kiss on your head thrown back, perpetual awe to still be spinning days like seed pods falling, gay pollinators a thousand little stories tripping up your heels digging in the soft earth finding more and more— hope, days, light, every creature of love again uncovered
Claudia Maurino, ’24