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
