The Sun that Sits on Me (a poem)

The Sun that Sits on Me (a poem)

Perhaps the outdoors
has a quality I have missed
all these years.

The chats that sound
brighter, that need no words.
The fluff, feathers and flies
that float on the wind.
The shades of greens
and shadows of browns.
No fallen leaves yet
or shrunken flowers.
Just heat sitting on my outfit
letting me know there’s nowhere else.

Perhaps the outdoors
has a quality I have needed
all these years.


David A. Church

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