It’s snowing now.

Yesterday’s ice

somehow softens

beneath the stillness.

I’m reminded of

how time passes

even in a standstill:

the slow drip

of coffee

that seeps

into morning,

a wake up whisper

in morning darkness.

I don’t want

to be alone,

I quietly mourn.

An invitation

buzzes on my phone

my chest surges,

a sudden reminder

I am loved.

I want a life

that feels like

a pour over:

warm, bright notes

that comfort

then energize.

I’m learning:

when treated

with reverence

all routine


into ritual,

the mundane

into sacred —


even me.


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