Window watching with a hot coffee on a misty morning.
Rain runs slowly from the gutter outside.

Fresh fish on her face, the dog tends to her bum.
Sighing softly after a job well done.

The matter moves freely in my lungs.
“I’m having a tall day,” I say with a wink to my rimy reflection.

Another year, nearly at its close.
It does not store significance anymore.

I’m done counting time.