Serene
The birds debate politics and
Bees have road rage in morning traffic
As pink daylight kisses their backyard home.
Smoke furls upward like a viny tendril and
I take another drag off my cigarette –
Cool menthol whetting the crack of my summer lips.
My brain does backflips
Like I haven’t eaten
In a while.
I am,
In a word,
Serene.
The sands of time sometimes run too quickly,
Hourglasses bolted down
With waists far too wide,
And I need to stop.
I want to inhale the dawn
Relish the squish of earth between my toes and
The way wild onion invites itself into my nose.
So I smoke some more,
Greyscale watercolors rising from my mouth
And for once, I am
Serene.
Bees have road rage in morning traffic
As pink daylight kisses their backyard home.
Smoke furls upward like a viny tendril and
I take another drag off my cigarette –
Cool menthol whetting the crack of my summer lips.
My brain does backflips
Like I haven’t eaten
In a while.
I am,
In a word,
Serene.
The sands of time sometimes run too quickly,
Hourglasses bolted down
With waists far too wide,
And I need to stop.
I want to inhale the dawn
Relish the squish of earth between my toes and
The way wild onion invites itself into my nose.
So I smoke some more,
Greyscale watercolors rising from my mouth
And for once, I am
Serene.