it is early morning, the sky
is a mild pink, infused with trickles
of gold that crawl from the
horizon.
wispy clouds consume the sky,
like feathers of silvery cotton. the
streets
are empty, the silence paves way
for the music of the birds. the
air smells fresh,
free of the columns of smoke that sully
it during the day. the breeze is gentle,
invigorating on my waking skin, ushering me
into the
realm of full consciousness.
it is going to be a beautiful day.
it is nearing
midnight. stars are sprinkled
across the sky, easily ignored in the
presence of
the full moon. my ears catch
the hooting of a concealed owl and the
muffled
voices of neighbors. I smell the
remnants of smoke. The air is still
and warm
on my features, slowly
lulling me into sleep.
at least these sensory feasts are noticed from
time to time; especially when ensnared in
melancholic ruminations. a lack of momentary
happiness can lead to beautiful
sensations.
