There is something in the air today.
Is it the humidity–that thick Kentucky vapor? Or is
it my own exhaustion, filling the space with a
weight that demands I stay low. A day
to stay close to the earth, where the weight of
gravity is strong, and grounding, and dark.
True, there are days meant for clouds.
Days meant for standing tall, tiptoes and
all, but that day is not today. Today is for slow
heartbeats and listening to the rain.

A golden shovel poem using a line from Today by Mary Oliver.