Personalizing an Emotion - An Exercise in Writing

I Am




I am a tincture poured into a chalice.
Your breath across the rim of the ruby-colored
glass sends a ripple that
breaks the surface
and we wait together for
calm’s return before you drink me in.

I am cotton
and linen
and silk.
Each time you hold me to your skin
is both new
and familiar.
Each time you hold me to your skin
you mourn my leaving and
you crave my return.

I am the flutter of the breeze
against the petals by the walk as the
blades of grass stretch to the sun
and dew holds your feet to the lawn
as you stand with newspaper in one hand
and coffee mug in the other.

I am moans and sighs and laughter.
I am the trill of mockingbirds as they
busy themselves over their nests
while you notice the tiny ones in the Magnolia out back.