Sunlight befriends a digital stream of
virtual heavy lifting, the meat of work devoured;
tasks fall like pistachio husks.
Night shadows a stream splashing
the bowl when the hours are shy
and don’t care who you are.
I prefer the water, the house breathing,
and the beckon of hollow cocoon, warm as secret skin.
I read this several times just for the beauty of how it flows. I love your writing style, Jim.
Thank you, Debra. We have a spontaneous mutual admiration.