The city looks the same,
but I’m wearing a smile again.
A wildflower growing on a rooftop garden,
I have no thought of drought or rain.
I’ve not branched far; I’m just starting,
drawn by the sweet banana roti sizzling on a pan
a few yards away.
As I meditate in a breeze that goes on for days.
Sure, the city looks the same
from below a visor’s frame
on the back of a stranger’s rumbling motorbike
weaving down Suki in the morning’ sunlight,
rippling like cayenne.
“I’ve let go of the old,” I go on to explain,
“the fear, the self-loathing.”
“Sukha! Sukha!” he exclaims,
and from the passenger seat,
I discover there’s no view
I can’t reframe. I’m
thankful to be in motion
on a new campaign.
©2024 | K.F.Hartless
Happy Thanksgiving, dear friends. Blessings to you and your families.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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