Monday, May 17, 2010

Small Moments - Tara Alvey

Camerie Smith

Small Moments (Apologies to Rupert Brooke0
Tara Alvey

These I have loved
The slip of a newly dusted and oiled furniture under my palms;
Smooth grains of homemade ice cream under my summery sweat tongue; Old pictures;
Morning birds singing your dark mind to consciousness;
The musty friendliness of old pillows; Inhaling clean mountain air;
The sharp crack of wood when it breaks and the constant chatter of hidden creatures as
you dash and dart along a secret trail; Then suddenly, Stillness, as you close your eyes;
Eyes, tiny orbs that wink and blink as bits of your soul shines through;
The smell of an old leather saddle;
The velvety push of your nose, close up against a horse when you kiss it;
The wind as it whispers your name and your soul answers back; Somehow knowing there is something more than what we see;
The slide of a dinner mint in your mouth;
The slap and sting as you hit water and then it slowly claims you for its own;
A turtle’s tongue;
The smell of sun tan lotion and the giddiness it inevitably inspires;
Long wild grass you chomp on as you wander along back country roads; Mirrors;
The smell of a boat as the engine roars and skids across the water;
The straight, army like, single file lines in a carpet after the vacuum swoons past;
The drip of your wet body on hot cement as you flee from a water fight;
The scent of new and improved dance shoes as you pop the box open; A new start;
Then again, there’s the endearment of old broken shoes and how they move with you;
Home; Cold water that slices down your throat;
The smell of a tramp in the sun;
The sound of a horse as it flies up a dirt road, the feeling of being one with the incredible
creature beneath you, and the power you wield;
Eating chilled snap peas;
The acute awareness as a single tear rolls down your face and the way your heart feels as
it does; The graceful grandeur of piano keys, old and new;
The panic as a wave pushes you down and salty seas water fills your gut, then the joy as you break the surface;
Adrenaline as it pours through your very core, fingers, legs and finally makes you weak in
the knees; The way your face looks when your hair falls just right;
Sky and Dirt;
Smooth legs under a warm blanket; The mass of sheep’s wool between your fingers;
Butterfly kisses;
All these have been my loves.

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