morning hangs heavy
saturated
warm; my
preoccupations palpable
even to the tiny creatures
of the suburban
understory,
what with their
fluttering
scurrying
pecking
-tsk tsk tsk-
red bird yellow bird
buzzing bird fat bird;
the staccato worrying
of my coffee companions
much more
immediate
much more essential
than the
muddled muggy smear
that knits across
the width of my forehead
my curse of higher evolution
consternation
we spend our lives
trying to escape it
with dollars
and distractions
(maybe we can
out-party it
out-sweat it
outrun it
outwit it)
no no no,
taps the
woodpecker
rattling his perfectly simple
unencumbered birdbrain,
silly humans
there is no thinking
away the thinking.
©Vixen Lea 2020