Tiny Little Nudges of Nothing

Poetry Month – Poem a Day – No. 4

I wake up to animation and artwork and another year. Oh, and a cat licking my face and a dog’s leg across my ankle. He’d hug me if he could.

I wake up wondering what on earth I will write about today. Only celebratory ideas swim around in my sleepy brain. I am blessed. Loved. Could I just go back to sleep then?

I wake up and think of how we all seem to thrive these days on news, fake or real, clicking and swiping and tapping and holding. Sounds like dancing but it is not.

I wake up and say no, don’t think of the sad metaphors, don’t let things you love represent bad things. Like when you compared Peeps to the President.

I wake up and my view is expansive, to the east and to the north, the mountain over my back yard. I think of how very small we are. Our dance steps tiny, tiny nudges of nothing.

I wake up and I love my nothingness. And how perfectly dark coffee with the richest of rich creams makes all my nothingness seem bigger. For this moment. And that is enough.

I wake up and say, get your ass out of bed, now, woman. Go Celebrate.
And I do. Grateful and alive.

Photo by Justin Leibow on Unsplash