Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirteen
Happy New Year.
Feet in the fire, a small cup of coffee, the sound of rain.
A smaller group than last year, but a few familiar faces.
The sound of the water rushing over the rocks.
I suddenly remember that this is the year I went to Yosemite. So there was something. But I know there was also something missing.
Leftover pizza. Chili oil burning my lips.
A medicine wheel spread. In the center, the eagle.
I could do more, but today is a day that I can do less.
“You are a constellation of everyone you have met.”
Here comes the rain again.