Joy

The sunspots fall down the sky,

Through the peaceful

Non-intruding clouds.

They fall on me,

To my center,

To my core;

A dangerous place

I do not reach for.

The comma curves,

So dark and soft;

Down.

Its downward slide

Seeks up,

Capturing the curve,

It holds in the breath.

But on a cloudless day

Without a storm to

Buffer these winds,

That fly free;

My face is open to the moment.

Why is this aching stillness

So remembrant of sadness?

My joy;

So often do I find it

With feelings like remorse,

It fills me and I,

Wait,

For the catch of breath

Return.