Sensing

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in the moment, senses tapped, breathing deep and defined, discharging the creative flow

a whirlwind blow of air pushes out the furnace through portals in my walls replacing a chill about me with dry warmth.

the roof cracks and splinters from the cooling of heated air aloft in the attic.

the circa 1920 wooden school clock propped on the foyer wall keeps a rhythm of minutes with syncopated tocks keep time, echoing throughout the house.

zack snores with each inhale alive deep in his compact beagle body.

a glance outside and my eyes catch shades of grey patches obscured by black lines, some heavy, some thin, from the maple and oak trees hibernating in stillness.

winter.

lightness of noon is a grayish glow of the sun’s limits from cloud cover.

plump squirrels and occasional cardinal are plunked in pillows of white snow atop the fence and have a look at me.

squirrel’s unbeloved chirp is louder than the cardinal’s sweet song.

steam dances above my tea cup and captures my face with humidity.

honey’s syrup blooms in tandem with the citrus of a lemony circle in the hot tea bath.

warm ceramic plumps my chilled fingers with warmth blanketing the curve of the ceramic vessel.

I am reunited with sweet and tart dancing on my tongue with one sip.

my fingertips tap the keyboard keys to commence the flow of creativity I have discharged.

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