Haiku
Cold air tumbling
through the window, dissipates
on warm fingertips
lost in my own head
hooked back into the present
by a cat’s bright eyes
Cold air tumbling
through the window, dissipates
on warm fingertips
lost in my own head
hooked back into the present
by a cat’s bright eyes
cracked TV on curb
sleet falls, white fuzz collecting
the static escaped
Starlings murmurate
Three hundred birds in a bush
Chirp a rolling boil
She who lives
Worrying on death
Forgets life
The morning sunlight
blissfully tangles itself
In your sleeping hair
nearly transparent
your fingertips lit through
warm orange blown glass