she sat so still. paying attention to the smallness of things. her mind full of animation and character, each moment a story of detail.

her friend the sun. warm light. soaks into brown skin.
this voice passes across the sky, changing tone with each hour.
she threaded muscles lay. foreign afternoon steadies itself.

tiny grass prickling back skin and the smell of green underneath.
sage breathes free when planted. souls happy.
rejoicing tommorow unknown.

shells of acorns talk to each other from fingertips.
squirrel's nose sniffs behind yonder tree. curiousity.
hips bent against long stalks of weed. back straight listening.
things grow and stretch against sky.

brahms' descending thirds and fingers sing in d major.
jazz trumpet on her dvd player, and face enchanted.
each sentence sinks in. patient ears.


i want more of this capacity for quality.