the kitchen floor is swept. my fiancé is washing the dishes. there are daffodils in a small blue and white vase on the table. a record spins a song from childhood dances. water boils in the electric kettle. the chocolate chip cookies just came out of the oven. I ask the age-old question “what kind of tea do you want?” our phones lie forgotten on the counter. the clutter is mostly manageable. the tea steeps. I turn the record over. our cat wanders by, meowing at me to play. a note is taped to our kitchen wall that reads records to buy, listing Arlo Parks, John Coltrane, Chopin, and Lianne La Havas. how did I get so lucky? how am I alive in this moment? oh! to be alive on a simple night.
Tag: daily life
remember?
remember oatmeal?
hot, sugared mounds of it
emerging from pools of cream
remember potatoes?
mashed with the skins on
tiny bursts of salt and garlic
remember tea?
silky on the tongue, small pucker
then crunchy, sweet toast with jam
remember the kitchen floor?
the dog’s belly, the dust suspended
sunlight the enthused magician
a miracle caught unawares
Siena Rose 