Category Archives: The Liminal Times
Relatively Speaking
morning, itself
this morning sits quietly
in its own lap,
a soft green sigh of pretend grass
and hush-talk
of sun through leaves.
the world forgets
to be enormous;
it curls, kitten-small,
inside a breath.
somewhere, breeze invents
the idea of touch,
and two shadows
(still learning the language)
stretch, yawn, become light.
