Be Here Now

Breathe.

A misty morning,

Spring, cool.

Voices far and near

muffled

in the vapour.

Nascent sunglow

diffused by fog,

in fret beneath

hidden heavens.

Breathe.

Intake of cold gold.

Outswept brume

of my ether,

adding to all that is

already there.

The taste of steel

on the still air,

hometown flavour.

Breathe.

The metal garden seat

is cool and hard

but there is comfort

in knowing it will warm.

A robin sings

it’s warbled warning

in the garden

I made for us both.

Breathe.

A small space,

but my own.

A small life

but enough.

No need to go

where I am not.

No need to do

what is not done.

No need to be

what I am not.

No need of anything

but being alive

in this moment.

Breathe…

Photo by Oleksandr P on Pexels.com