Collecting Sarrah Hakim I sit here gathering a basket of sun, the light touch of a warm breeze, and the soft whisper of the wind to the trees, gracing each leaf with a kind word; I am collecting the rough bark against my back and each crumbling speck of dirt that kisses my hands, my legs, and the underside of my thighs; I snatch up every drop in the pool of sky – the expanse of blue and the frothy white foam – and I store the vast framework above me: the maze of gentle branches, each long limb offering a hand to a furry friend; I take every slender green finger that tickles my skin, every sip of fresh air that fills my lungs, and every leaf napping on a comfortable bed of grass, So that when the days come of powdered sugar and cold peppermint breaths, of frosted windowpanes and silvery mornings, I can open my collection And reach for my basket of sun.
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