Stillness, Turmoil In the Morning

Oatmeal cooks in the washing machine, getting warmer, chocolate chips make stains on the canvas. My white feather mantle blows in lavender air, downy snowflakes grace the lemongrass ground. Cats’ paws lead a waltz, in tune with the piano, cattails swaying to the slow dance: brush, swish, slide, still. The curtains on yesterday are drawn: brush, swish, slide, still. Someone is sweating on my window, droplets carrying vitality, splattered like wayward pigeons on a skyscraper. A fog rises, eyes open. Someone is sweating on my window. Eyes open. Falling backwards into a hammock, swinging in slow motion. Eyes open. Falling forwards like a raindrop on glass. Eyes open.