The Sky Is Blue and So Are You

I like to have one hour.

One hour a day where I stick my face in the grass and audibly inhale the green goodness.

That's what alive smells like, you know?

I like to lay there and let the sun lick my back while I think.

Because nature is courteous unlike my sisters,

and the trees won't scream at me until I give them the iPad charger.

Instead the trees politely sway side to side like,

"Hey, go ahead. We know this is your thing and you just need a few to feel like a person."

And so I give them a gracious nod as if to communicate,

"Hey thanks trees. Thanks for being so patient and understanding." 

And then me and the trees just have this mutual respect for each other. 

And then sometimes I scrape my knee on the cement by pure coincidence and end up laying across the sidewalk hugging the rosy patch tight to my chest.

I like to just fall asleep there.

With the wind gently brushing my arm and whispering sweet nothings.

Until the little caesars lady from up the street kicks me and her mean dog growls and I stand up and stalk away like I am angry with her (which I kind of am) (mostly because she owns little caesars and has never brought me a free pizza)

And when it rains it courses through me.

Then I am the thunder as I dance aimlessly through the back yard, soaking my taylor swift t-shirt. 

And then I slide across the grass on my knees.

And my mother is going to kill me but I do not care because I am the thunder and I have no time to worry about grass stains. 

So instead I turn it into an air guitar solo and I am on a stage and I do not care that my neighbors are on their porch watching me.

Because it is my hour.

And I like to have one hour.