Beautiful day

You'd love today.  It's beautiful out- I've spent the day working on writing, photography, and I'm going to paint if time allows.  Mom, Luther, Grandpa, Dad, yep, you'd all love today.

Rain came yesterday and washed the sweat from our backs.
Renewal permeates the air, moves through bones
and quietly reconstructs lives.
Dishes clatter in a kitchen across the alley,
laughter wanders from their window to ours
and brings comfort with it:
pots and pans and silverware clattering on plates
mean someone's in the kitchen- the center of home-
there's someone tending to the core of where we leave
and return to every day. 
The house is quiet except for music
songs you've never heard that I sing again and again.
If I could borrow just one of your voices for a minute,
I could do the music justice,
after all, that's what this whole crazy thing's about, isn't it?
Doing the music around us justice?
It's too bad my voice cracks and ambles awkwardly through
melodies and rhythms.
I need to apologize to the neighbors-
the windows are open and I'm singing
and the traffic just isn't loud enough.

Sometimes I write like this,
it looks like a poem but is really just me rambling-
there's something comforting in the
breaking
of lines for me.
Maybe it's a physical representation of my disjointed
thought process.
Maybe it's my fear
of committment.
Oh wait, I don't have that. So maybe it's my fear of run-on sentences.
Anyway, you'd love today.  If you were here we'd laugh at stupid things
and some of us would dance while others drank and philosophized.
We'd discuss all the taboo subjects and turn them into notes on the treble clef,
I'd paint them on the computer screen and you'd take turns rearranging them
in your throats.
Let's have a party.
A ghost party, it is the month of Halloween.  C'mon, you don't even need costumes!
BYOB Bring your own boos/booze
God, I miss you sometimes.
It's beautiful here today.