NaPoWriMo - day #18

I am moved by the light. 

By dusty pinks and purples

that swell inside the sky and 

spill out golden. stained from 

years of smoke. By streetlights

cutting through balmy 

indigo summers.

Sometimes it’s enough 

to just want your life to

be the art. There is beauty

in existing the only ways 

we know how.