Snap jacks and little things filled with cracks.
Bellows and rice cake shaped cellos.
Berries and little bone shaped ice cream cones.
And of course silliness galore.
I want these things in my life.
I want good things that are sweet and fun and encourage me to chew chewing gum.
I want the old energy, the kind that made me frolic with joy like a boy playing with a little race car toy.
What kind of rainy day makes me think of these things?
They are the storm clouds above, the ones
made from frozen banana meat and oatmeal bowls.
They hail to no avail and their chunks of ice klunk our heads.
They squish our favorite berries and smash our ice cream cones.
They take away our cracked rocks and boil our cellos with oil.
They do many things and ultimately everything we feel stings.
But that’s ok.
Things hurt, they always hurt.
But that doesn’t mean we have to fall and writhe on the floor.
We can love the storm clouds above, especially the ones made from frozen banana meat and oatmeal bowls.
When hail falls to no avail and their chunks klunk our head we can find a rhythm in the beat.
We can juice our favorite squished berries and sprinkle in our smashed ice cream cones.
We can hit our rocks till they crack and store them in our favorite shack.
We can add fries to the oil vat boiling our cellos; and we can indulge every sting to remind ourselves how we set ourselves free.
