This isn’t it, work;
Relief, dread, broken-hearted.
I’m in a field.

Trying to keep my head up during the beginning stages. I’m ready, but the universe is charging. 

Stifled, it’s still cool,
but slow
and grating,
I march.
Hunger and the sky.

It’s like when you look up and see a few stars, and then you look again and there are more, and then again, more.

I’ve never been here.
Never done this or taken
the chance to show you.

My skills are great, but not necessarily applicable universally. 

Years in the halls with
teachers and peers and now I’m
in a fucking field.

Whimsy isn’t; light-heartedness does not come easy to me

Perhaps, it’s laughing.
The joke is perseverance
and its been a week.

Describing your skills in a packet with words is accidental iced tea.