It looks like something
Different than it is,
All concrete and cement,
Forward and rustic,
Large and open
It looks a bit like
A construction site,
Except the people in bright yellow
Are smiling, waving at you
On the inside, it looks like
Tattoos and clean skin,
Smokey eyes and washed faces,
Everything from weathered jeans to billowing dresses
It looks like moms whose cars wouldn’t start
And dads who spilled their crack-of-dawn coffee
Kids who cling to knees
And kids who can’t wait to run inside
But it also looks like
Conversation, and character
Like you can see
Every
Person’s
Morning
At the same time
All in all, it looks good
It sounds like
Well, you can guess what it sounds like -
Traffic and quick talk,
Kids yelling and babies crying
But once it starts, it sounds like
A strong, steady beat
Connecting my feet to the floor
The rhythm in my chest
The buzz of the EC - high frequency, waking me up
Dreamy falsetto on top of honey alto, rising and dipping and beautiful
It sounds like
Ruffling through purses
As the buckets weave through the crowd
It doesn’t sound like giving up, it just sounds like giving
It sounds like
Shouting and laughter
And someone’s hands clapping too often
But then more laughter
So it sounds good
It smells like
Paint, actually -
And fresh wood
Most of which has been in our garage
Or on the front porch
Or in the back of daddy’s car for months
It smells like an art project,
Years in the making,
Years that I’ve witnessed, though it’s older than me
I like it - it smells good
It tastes like
Warm coffee
And sometimes hot chocolate
Bananas and Panera
And water to clear my throat
It tastes like
Honey - thin honey;
I crunch on the grains of sugar
Sharp peppermint that hurts my tongue
Once a month it tastes like
Fresh grapes and stale bread
It makes me laugh when I can’t open the lid
But it still tastes good
It feels like…
Well, how can I put it?
It feels like…
Home, though it’s not
Family, (though it isn’t exactly that either)
I feel special when I walk through the hallways
After all, I know every wall, every corner
Every fork and dead end
I know what’s behind almost every door; Least I think I do
It feels like
What it is, I guess
Someplace safe, for everyone
A slight foot in the White Door
A small
Look
Sound
Smell
Taste
Feel
Of Eden
I don’t know
But it sure feels good
