ripples.

it is enough, to sit and watch the sun, rise.

taste of bitter-

sweet coffee flooding my tongue – little ripples,

little moments. waves pressing the shore,

when wind is whispering in knotted

tendrils of my hair.

how sand coalesces in crevices

between toes; the way a seagull

dives into the surf in search of breakfast.

brushstrokes of sun rays,

my stomach growls: hunger

for something other than solitude.

the sun comes up from horizon-shore-line –

each inhale/exhale is different:

no one is the same.

it is enough, to collect the little things.

---

for a while now, this poem has been itching and scratching its way at the door, asking to be released out into the world.

a week ago, a very close friend of mine and i were talking, and i asked her to reveal the secret to her happiness. she responded that it is to be content with our ever-constant collection of the little things.

im heading back out now, to continue collecting.