Printing the last page of the third revision
as if clearing out the last of the roaches
from the kitchen of my heart.
I feel like a bird singing from the top
of a plane-tree on a bright sunny day.
Singing a dainos of love.
Writing a poem without thinking why.
Typing with a blinking curser that
only blinks when I pause to think.
The end of a semester is invigorating,
charged with knowledge, inspired by
new thoughts and ideas.
I feel like a phoenix taking flight
again on a new journey, to
write, read, create, love and laugh.
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