Relaxation is a cumulative thing
Each day, I drop lower toward the ground
Growing wider, more dense, slower
And, smoother –
A slow-motion lava flow
Of enjoyment and appreciation
Held in the middle of a mound of dough
Rising above and spilling over
Any kind of established container
There’s a breeze here and sunlight
The world is turning
But, because I’m turning at the same speed
I can’t feel it.
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