six_dollar_sunshine tender_square if the sky is gonna be a stubborn bastard with stratus clouds shape-shifting over sun, then i’m not holding my breath for springtime. last year, the robins ate my seed sprouts within seconds, tore soil with pointed beaks, messy leavings. i’m doubting i can. there’s six stalks of sun in a vase i got from the grocery for six bucks. (really.) they remind me of a dress i wore at eleven; a scalloped skater with the bright, open faces of sunflowers; youth’s unbridled optimism brushing my unbruised knees. i wake with tired bones living days i’m sure have already passed. eager robins peck at shoots skyward, swallow in one greedy gulp what needs root in me. 220403 what's it to you? who go blather from