A not-so-emo poem: Sublime Sunday

Aside: An awful lot of my posts have been given to melancholy,

making it seem as if my life/thoughts are nothing more than a dark,

dismal hole of emo-like self-pity. Therefore, I present some more 

light-hearted fare as an offering of thanks for my bountiful 

blessings.

It's an ambrosial Sunday, the sun
sparkles through frosted windows. It's
a heavenly day for a rapture, a hallelujah chorus and
the Second Coming.

I've reconciled with the wind, an orb of nectar light
sits suspended in my throat and pours
honey in words-- sticky and sweet with a smile.

Crocuses coo their heads from the ground,
captures of a coquettish spring. Inextinguishable
clouds design a dismal day, but I won't be brought low today.

I find peace in the pendulous purity of what it means to
breath, expanding my ribs with solitude though
surrounded. There is no cacophony. Top to toe I am
harmony.