feeling like an animated five-year-old
when the rising sun makes patterns through my curtains
that feel like a secret message for me to decipher.
tasting the alchemy between the elements
that created my morning tea.
picking up a wriggling earthworm from a puddle
and wondering if it thinks of me as a mad eldritch horror
that had a sudden moment of benevolence.
tucking in the bones of the flowers that I planted on a whim
under a bed of decomposing leaves
much to the dismay of my HOA.
staring up at the stars to chat about my day
and the way we always decide
this still isn’t a bad life at all
by the end of our conversation.