Spread My Egg Whites Open

Can the whimsy be profane or profound?

Image by Grok

She faces the back of my broad shoulders
As she heralds her presence.
Dawn with her Barbie-colored fingers.
It’s workout time and she’s my trainer.

She says I look ‘Bright’.
I always look bright.
I dress like the Sun because
The Sun is a master of agency
Affluent in divine buoyancy.

As an energetic tribute,
I wear yellow shorts
She gets it and knows
I am a cunning poet.

Our connection spills to the annals of class

Her dharma spiel echoes my writings.
To be patient and trust the Universe.
Don’t focus on the outcome…
The how of it all.

Otherwise the Dawn of a new day
lacks a sunny side uprising.

I tow the line…
After the teaching’s done
Offering her an invite
For custom made omelettes.