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.