Consider the pickle
swimming in brine
still a cucumber
but better

The harshest surroundings
can be so well-rounding
Amazing, the storms we
can weather

Published in WayWords Literary Journal 13

The icy trees that catch the breeze in lazy undulation
The quiet thrum and gentle hum of distant conversation
A hollow thud of glass and mug atop the kitchen table
The whoosh click whirr and bubbling purr of boiling the kettle
A pour, a pause, the steady drips; a fragrant cloud of heat
A scale that dances up in pitch as mug and coffee meet
A gentle melancholy wrapped in wood-stove smoke and plaid
As far as winter mornings go, this one’s not so bad