My life revolvesaround laundry soap, meals that burn, dogs that bark, floors begging to be swept Where are the things that matter? I imagine lovers touching gently in the night; talk with friends; drumming the moon; candles,and glowing satori.
Life revolves, around toilet paper, dishes to be washed, kids that need tending.
What makes me think that death would make this any more real?
I breathe deeply. hold a dish to be washed, javish it with suds, breathe and wash, breathe and wash— each dish an offering.
With each breath, let life begin.
Tom Elliott Grass Range, Montana