I look out at the non-air-conditioned
unvacuumed, untidied backyard
and see life teeming
every leaf unfurled from a bud two months ago
goldfinches hatched from eggs.
My cat sleeps on his tail-cushion.
He was a kitten once
and I was an embryo before that.
The rug under my feet came from seeds
fibers woven by some hands
that once rested on mothers’ breasts
and processed life
but all life
silently pulsing with
the casual wisdom of having been created
One thought on “July Morning”