From where I sit, waiting, finding today’s five minutes:
There is one tiny moth in our house, day 3 of evading cat claws. It looks like a comma flung at the wall, just there. Blink and it takes flight, quick and teasing.
It’s cold. But even inside a grey day, there is color. The clouds gust through, followed by sun gleam and petrichor. We found half of a tiny, blue eggshell in the grass. Rainbow ribbons snap and flutter in the chill breeze. It’s hard to believe that strawberry season is nearly over on the other side of the mountain.
The practice of noticing. Free verse, holding attention, making mind space.