That Day

When the light of day sits

pensive and dull

you begin to mourn the flowers

that yesterday sang

brilliant hues of red

and violet

and the spray of ocean waters

burned salt into your eyes

and you cried

not because you mourned the day

but because the sky was seamless blue

and the day held you suspended

in warm light

high and giddy from the smell

of the sun

you melt into the air

and fly away with the seagulls.

Art and Poetry © Jay Mora-Shihadeh