small words, big skies.

soft paws on the lap

kneading biscuits once again

it's too late to eat

sitting at my desk

cars rumble by quietly

i should be outside

dirt beneath the nails

new plants grow in the garden

the back aches again

thermostat is set

at seventy-two degrees

outside is too hot

a waxen phoenix

molten lava in a lamp

sinking for rebirth