mindful writing, day 5? 6? not so mindful, eh?

it is this day

regardless of 5 or 6

it is a day >0 and a day of rain and fog.

it is a moment of rain and fog

of drips from the roof

of birds like graphite sketches high up  and moving fast

it is a moment of barely green pines and tangled vines and green green grass under snow pulling back from tree trunks

it is a moment of apples turned amber, up above where the deer can reach

and a moment of me, sitting here, trying not to backspace my witness into forced anything just

being with the empty yellow mug with the white insides

and the glass of tea, forgotten and now cold

evidence of my day’s distraction

folding inward some, outward some, piles of laundry and the lightest wash of watercolor dreaming

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