Grab The Sun

I love Mondays, the start of a new week, a fresh beginning.

In the words from today's poem take this Monday: "put one word in front of the other, and see what happens when they rub up against

each other. It might become something

that will burst into flame."

"It's Monday Morning"

by Barbara Crooker

mid-November, the world turned golden,

preserved in amber. I should be doing more

to save the planet—plant a tree, raise

a turbine, put solar panels on the roof

to grab the sun and bring it inside. Instead,

I’m sitting here scribbling, sitting on a wrought

iron chair, the air cold from last night’s frost,

the thin sunlight sinking into the ruined

Appalachians of my spine. I know it’s all

about to fall apart; the signs are everywhere.

But on this blue morning, the air bristling

with crickets and birdsong, I do the only thing

I can: put one word in front of the other,

and see what happens when they rub up against

each other. It might become something

that will burst into flame.

- Photo by Daoudi Aissa on Unsplash