The summer sun tracks different

Sometimes I write to figure out where I am.  Even though I*m watching shadows, long spider shadows in particular, I also watch how the sun is bright on the cat, sprawled, or shines purple through the clematis on the living room table. From the chair in which I write these days, the summer sun is just beyond the edge of the window, which means I do not have to draw the shade, but can feel its warmth on my right arm.

It is day two of my internship and I am excited to experience what Wednesdays are like at the halfway house.

The summer sun

Tracks different

In the sky.

In the spring when I wrote

It landed in my eyes.

Now I can see.

It seems I always notice particulars,

My self

The beginning reference point.

We each need a place

To begin.

The cat finds the summer sun track

On the carpet,

Sprawls to catch every ray.

The spider between the window

And the screen,

Casts a long spider shadow

On the floor.

He is not as big

As his shadow,

But still healthy

nonetheless.

Today I continue to make new tracks

Alongside the summer sun.

I make new tracks

In new summer places;

New shadows:

Sometimes bigger,

Sometimes smaller.

I am still the exact same size

God has made me.

Appearances perhaps to the contrary,

I am still

Just as God has made me.