Dirty White Jeans

The morning dawns and your eyes crack open. Rub the bleary out as the plans for the day echo in your skull. It’s time to get dressed.

Contrasting all the blue denim folded on the closet shelves are your white jeans, waiting to reflect the long days clear breath and to be colored by the dye of life’s movement. There’s a lot to do, load up the pockets with the daily necessities and get going.

Undyed cotton staples woven into the strength of a bridge are ready to support whatever needs to be done - step by step, lift and pull. White pants are the working man’s blank canvas.

The combination of things to do and moments to admire stretch out the hours like muscles straining as they strengthen, remembering the cool progression toward dusk. White light and sanguine heat salute back as you wipe your brow. Shadows chase what they can’t touch, lengthen into a measurement of the work you’ve pushed past as the day wanes.

Carrying the day into stride, white jeans collect their honor - showing off their separate moments of victory - from cock’s crow to scorpio’s tail.