the early
August morning
shows me i am
breathing.
shows me my
breath.
i walk a
broken shudder
of a street,
thankful
for this reminder.
the day is
mostly
neutral,
though
there have been
more disappointments
than not.
the small town is
choked
with passive people,
moving slowly
in their herds.
the locals are
impatient.
the locals are
rushing.
the locals are
proud
of their locality.
the day is
mostly neutral
though it is
skewed,
a dull slant,
towards disappointment.
and maybe
the aggregate of a
life, maybe
it will
dully slant
towards disappointment.
but hot water
poured
in a clear container,
the clear container
with a few
spoonfuls
of dried plants,
this is still
good.
even within
the disappointing
day.
and earlier,
during the
brief time when
the rain
stayed put
in swollen cloud,
the air
glistened.
small flowers
held gently
on to the tiny beads
of water,
not yet ready
to let them
go.
and when the wind
chuffed and sighed,
the leaves
flashed green
and then silver.
the fish,
too,
the fish
in the oil slick harbor,
flash briefly
silver, before
disappearing
in plain sight.
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