Moonlight climbed through the window
And I followed it back out
To the middle of the yard
And laid myself right down
In borrowed light and stretched out like a star
Taking in the night jars
Just existing can be hard
Maybe living is an art
We were walking along the shoreline
Still too cold for summer clothes
True, I dove in on a dare
But I'd have done it anyway, we both know
I say, "Gather the wind in your fists
Perfect conditions don't exist"
Living's what I call it
The other word don't fit
Today, pruning trees
Cutting back honey locust thorns
I tore through my glove
Blood ran red and warm
And I'm learning first-hand again
Pain can live on its own and get past your skin
Living when I'm honest
It can be punishing
And just existing can be hard
Maybe living is an art
