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