Beyond my computer screen
birds are singing in the morning sun
singing because they can, I suppose
singing because it’s morning and not yet too hot.
Already I have the fan on
blowing steadily in my direction.
Dang,
our fat red dog
is snoring
cicadas are droning
and someone is moving pots around
downstairs in the kitchen.
There is a secret joy in my belly.
I feel loose and dreamy, like the day in me has not yet woken.
I am glad without knowing why
I feel strange,
dangerously joyous
too aware that I am alive.
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