I wake but keep my eyes closed
struggling to find a comfortable position.
I give up, and rise to make the bed,
converting it back to a couch.
I resolve to eat the fruit left in the fridge for breakfast
but end up with a bowl of cereal, instead.
I wander the outskirts of the internet for awhile,
then decide to visit the library.
I shuffle through the graphic novels,
then down to the oversized books
where I browse full-color plates of
Van Gogh, Kandinsky, and Patrick Heron.
I find a beautiful whimsy and magic in the
Blues, Greens, and Yellows of Van Gogh’s palate.
I have some emails to attend to,
But rather sit in the sun and read a comic picked from
the stacks.
Later, I spend some time writing,
then make dinner.
I look up recipes for peasant bread
but I am missing several ingredients.
The day ends with a documentary
about Man’s trip to the Moon,
after which, I listen to the pulsing of Coltrane.
Both offer a sense of awe and magic.
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