Changing Scenery

I haven’t sat here

since the day you told me
you didn’t feel the same

but something about it
has changed.

The table is still metal black
the seats are still oddly cold
but the sunlight has made it new somehow –
everything is plated in gold.

I would be forced to pass this place before
and get a strange knot in my throat
but right now I’m leaning, scribbling, humming a song
and my smile is staying afloat.

The tree in front of me
is poised just like I am
its leaves are relaxed and ruffling

and the mourning dove is not mourning
the rush of cars isn’t rushing
there isn’t a single cloud overhead
and there are blades of luscious green
between bricks of stony red.

There is a smile in the stiffness
of the kingfisher’s narrow beak
there is cheer in the flutter
of the sparrow’s shower
there is love in the glide
of the starling’s wings
and in my writing hand

there is power.