Fit of Glee

Sun is just as bright through my eyelids.
Mid-February and it is sixty degrees.

I dragged my rocker out on the deck--
1 cigarette down. Some coffee. A fit of glee
rising in my chest. Books. My journal. Wind.
Sun. Bare feet. Warmth. Maybe I will paint
my toenails.

I am skipping class for this. What a good choice.
I can hear cars buzzing by beyond the trees. I see
the shadows of my hair curling against the siding of my house.

It is warm. There is no bad taste in my mouth--
Not even the fact that the temperatures will drop,
and the snow will fall, and my car's engine will sputter
for seconds before it starts, if it starts.

But, this is a promise. This day--this unusual day is a
promise that it ends, that it will be warmer, and there will be
bare feet, there will be porch afternoons and porch nights.

It is a promise that this is not the end of my life.
Just like this last semester is not the ned of my life.
There will be a home for me somewhere. Food,
most days. Jobs, somewhere.

There will be love. There will be sharing. There will be
rooted, real people. The ones I know now won't all
disappear. Some. Not all. I will not disconnect. I will
be here. I will be somewhere.

I will have time in my life after this to sit outside. To look
up. To take off my shoes. To find blue sky and to rest a while.