There is something about the way the sunlight slants through the blinds, how my blanket
feels warm after a night hugging my body.
The way my sock-enmeshed toes stretch and my
arms reach out like wings then fold back in
to the warmth of my chest.
The way my feet pad across the oak floors
and my apple tastes as it crushes between my molars,
sweet and watery and fresh,
as though the flowers of on my windowsill have turned red
and the petals filled with nectar.