This Thing That I'm Writing

Is about new beginnings because now, the air smells like jasmine. It's spring in the city and I can wear a skirt without feeling goosebumps up my legs. I wake earlier now, less tired, more willing, though driven is not what I mean.

Something mellower now, something sweeter, less guarded, a dog lying down in the sun. My subject, I guess, is running in heels and eating more greens and the big-shouldered chef who reads books. I'm talking his smile, the softcover I sold him, and how nice his hands looked when he took it.

Do you feel it too? No fireworks, no splash, just a warm wind stirring the grass? And in the morning to wake on the ground, to feel safe in wide open spaces?