[210] Why Not I

The bluest sky

and darkest soil

read my mind

and whisper softly

the door is open

I stumble through

but sprint I must

before the day turns true

the weeds grow quickly

in the dew of humid

and melting hues

turning days both long and short

as moss grows on the wooden strips

of my giving porch

where did all the geckos go

that knew my name

and pranced along

my doorframe

today I will look for what is near

and not yet anywhere

and gently relish that it was my past

that got me here

like the blue bird that made its home

in the tree outside my backdoor.

It doesn't question

it just lives—

amongst the living

and all that's not—

doing its thing

in perfect cosmic synergy

...so why not I.