Hyper-lucid moments following a morning pot of Kenyan tea.
A pint of stove-top espresso.
Vees of geese crank low overhead in the high-definition flat light of morning.
I’m bounding up crags like a goat.
I’m the winged messenger.
I feel preternaturally aware, everything is pin sharp and extra dimensional
Amazing piled up magical cu-nim cloud cities.
Sycamores in graceful twists, like shy dryads in mid-gyre.
I feel like a grey ghost flitting between the trees and slivers of time.
A woodwraith in the clockless world of dawn.