the air on the walk into work
this Monday morning is sweet and cool
and full of bird song.
unhurriedly, I stroll and
look with gratitude on the green grass
and queen anne's lace blossom
spread open fully to the sun,
on the little ant crossing my path
with the iridescent wings of the
dead fly shining on its steady back.
the stale hot air in the stairwell
chokes me a little
when I cross the door's threshold.
1 comment:
is this a trio of small stones or just one? I think they are three separate, connected moments.
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