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