Each One Here

slightly browned corn cake latke's covered with 

cilantro cream sit next to 

the wild rice, cranberry, edamame and sweet potatoe salad on a 

turquoise plate adjacent from 

the to-go cup of coffee covered by 

a sleeve that artistically depicts a cherry blossom tree--

all resting on a small, circular marble table rooted on

the hardwood floor. where my feet are.

flat though arched, tattooed underneath flip flops. resting, not heavy. 

toes wiggly and free. 

my husband next to me in a regal forrest brown leather chair

is wearing an exquisite burnt mustard polo shirt underneath

a black vest that matches

the rim of his glasses that cover

blue orbed, chestnut eyes, 

tired and penetrating.

his brown skin, the brown leather chair 

and the mustard shirt are quite the visual cocktail

but nothing compares--Cupidly speaking--to watching him 

punctuate the keyboard with his long, fingers,
his book taking the form of 
words, sentences, paragraphs and chapters
finally, after all this time,

an action of fulfillment that responds to 
his deepest yearning. 
the aliveness in the air
when he is stationed at t/his craft 
stirs me. flirts with me.  

each moment is animated 

by elements 

of color, consistency, texture,

relational tissue and sequence. 

what a gift in this moment

to witness

each

one. here. 

i am getting better 

at noticing 

the parts of this life

that are not wounded

and not entirely wound-reactive 

not hopelessly complex

but delightfully simple 

easily regarded as true

and beautiful without apology

including food, furniture, him, us and

me.