holy warmth

me, a south american creature

used to chase shade, running from the
scorching heat of permanent summer
cursing at the yellow eye up above

now

living in the English rain and fog

I soak any tiny ray of sunshine
any scrap of blue, any excuse to wear just my skin

I used to live in a concrete jungle, always been a megalopolis lover

people people people dance music car honks pollution neon buzz nightlife alltimelife bars people people people

now

slowing down
amidst the dandelions daisies bluebells lemongrass daffodils evergreens mexican lemon yews oaks blackthorns poppies tulips

my garden is a palace, its inhabitants
honey and bumble bees butterflies robins magpies caterpillars beetles ladybirds snails earthworms wood pigeons

my feline familiars only knew the inside of apartments
their whiskers against the closed windows

wondering what weird insects
were the cars down below

now

they frolic on the grass
prompting Sir David Attenborough’s voiceovers in my mind

my black cat a panther in the jungle
my white cat a snow leopard up the tree

and

look at me

urban child of the moon and shadows
born and raised on the concrete

now

has become
an ever-searching solar creature

bowing to the holy warmth

like flower, bug, bird and cat alike

it only took packing myself
across the ocean
to cold (and very wet) lands

to find out I'm not white
(though my skin has never been paler)

to start truly living seasonally

and that my latin american heart
worships the sun, wholesomely.

---

notes:
I wrote this from my garden in London, on this beautiful sunny day in late April. My landlord would hate what I've let happen to the grass, now completely taken by happy golden dandelions (but I don't really care). I love how much I love the sun now. Hello Sun. I've missed you. Please stay a long while….