Walking down the road
and the load
that I haul
is often nothing at all.

A person who claims
she sees beauty when it rains,
that has zest for life
through joy and even strife.
Why is it she wonders,
a numbing detachment
attaches to all the wrong things?

She filters
never spending enough time
absorbing fully
how blinding, how marvelous
the small details are in life
but the things which serve her ill
sneak back into her thoughts
nightly through the window sill.