linen

last late light -
half past eight.

feeling charmed of late, with days too good
to possibly be true.

home for only a few minutes
before the mixer's on and the stereo's blaring.

dancing in the kitchen -
carefree.

baking cookies, talking talents
skills, hopes, dreams, desires.

the evenings get away from me these days.
move the laundry over, take out the linen pants - one of a few.

there is something about linen, i could wear it forever.
forever.

the weather this time of year is just right.
about to get hot but the dusk, you can taste it, smell it.
texas summer.

thoughts linger outside this little kitchen, though.
up the road and around the corner.

sometimes when you are not looking for something,
it has this way of creeping into your life.

it's sneaky, really, and makes you feel like falling.
that's advice i've never had to give myself:
falling always came second-nature, do it quick, do it immediately, don't wait.
but i linger now.

is it possible i am learning patience, to slow down?
or am i just realizing that the big things
those are the things that come when you least expect them.