Birds
the smell of grass,
my dog's disgruntled whimper
The impatient click click
of his claws
on the hard kennel floor.
The mailbox gapes open
the paper in my shaking hand.
The single word
leaps out at me
Like lightning,
like ice water
like a bullet
to my twelve-year-old brain.
In one word
every birthday cake
every Christmas morning
every chocolate fudge sundae
every summer swim.
Congratulations.
We have chosen
Your story has been chosen.
The blue check flutters the ground
In the moment, next to nothing
I bend to pick it up.
Chosen
I am a writer now
Inside me, a floating balloon.
The sun has risen
on a glorious new day.