Daybreak speckles a squatty pine –
along with tiny winged dancers
you only stir a bit
to stare and sip
as a black cat threads its way
through morning
shadows;
a train moans westbound
but you are silent.
Spring is spring yet never the same –
when light crackles
a hardened path
you are an infinite disappearing
above ragged rafters
and slanted beams
and granite clouds
and blue reaching into white into black
into everything.
Then, chipmunk chirps pierce the untethering
dripping like a high-pitched faucet:
Start.
Your.
Work.
Stop.
Staring.