Lazy Morning Drowsing in a pool of silver light in the cup of a palm of pattering sound, twined in a twist of tufted blanket as a slumbering dog billows and breathes, snug against the cradle of my knees. Imagine to have never heard the falling rain. Drowsing serene as morning blossoms, afloat awake on argent gossamers of dream. Imagine to have never known a ticking clock. Something in my chest stirs and tries to fly but gently, unmoving, I smooth its bristles and say to it: Not yet.
