It’s morning and I smell sage
Ants floating over pebbles
Aspen leaves wink
Water rushes down a bathtub of a stream
My stomach is empty
Hair stringy and clumped
The aspen are still flaunting themselves like sideshow carlot advertizing schemes
My little boy asks, what are you writing?
The time I tell him.
He shrugs his shoulders, hmmph
And he leaves.