rain
oak leaves
failed movie stars
antonyms for haziness
wearing pajamas at breakfast
full moon still pinned in the sky
flocks of birds shuttling back and forth
the revolving glass door turned seven times
scents of black China tea and honey white bread
moonlight jellies by the shore on a late summer night
drinking cocktail and hitting the trail at 2 a.m. in K-town
tears streaming down the reddened cheeks in a continual flow
old rusty bicycles locked to bike racks and to each other at the park
noticing the incongruities of moments of life but also feeling the parallels
the morning sun rising over mountains, birches, and impossibly green pastures
when these become necessities of their lives, non-essential for you, grant I may be