it is raining.
10 am
clattering on the roof
and I am still in bed
the fog and tall southern trees
look like they are northern
like they are Maine or Washington
like I am somewhere familiar
my home is quiet
my room is blue and green
(colors I would have never chosen)
a bird caws
I am beginning to feel like I exist
that I am a part of the life here
the light is subdued
I sink further
the rain pauses, comes back
maybe I am camping
maybe I am loved