what is it about...

the way the sky wears clouds like
a warm blanket on some eastern
January morning

or the sound a spoon makes
hitting the side of the cup
while stirring coffee in some
friendly two-bit diner

or the easiness that some
folks live life ignorant of
knowledge and facts or
grace and beauty

or that a flower can sit on
the table in a glass of old
water simply content with
itself

or how our beds always
seem to know when we
need their comforting
invite the most

or the way your cat does
their precious roll at your
feet, then looks up at you
with serenity

or the color of moonlight
falling on your lovers face
as you walk past an elderly
gazebo in the park after
midnight

or waking up and calling
off work for no real reason
except that freedom was
more important that day

or

what about this very moment
that you are sitting there
reading this
poem