Love’s Delicious Damage

I suppose today 

On this glorious springy morning 

I have to allow myself to learn something new 

My locker is thickly scented with the sweet smell of cinnamon 

And I fear there will be permanent damage to the fabric touching the radiant oil pastel of my art 

I stand outside and allow myself to be consumed by the sun 

And the cool breeze 

I don’t talk to anyone this morning 

And I decide to delay it as much as possible 

Though the bell has just now rung 

I suppose 

We have to allow ourselves to be destroyed by the things we love 

And maybe provide back, as well,

A little good, a little delicious damage