Talk - Don't talk

Sometimes the universe seems to be speaking to you.

Sometimes it’s just the wind.

The leaves on the trees are only green,

catching air and slipping back and forth

against the sky blue sky.

My shoes are too short.

My toes are too long.

My eyes are heavy from lack of sleep.

A barista made me an omelet

with bacon and tomatoes and raw onion.

There was cheese, of course.

Words and questions and banter

filled the air at Aimee’s.

My butt grew tired,

I could hardly recall

if anything meaningful had been spoken.

But with a smile from a young woman,

I pulled the door.

The sun was hot.

The breeze was fresh.

Sometimes the universe has nothing to say,

but a look will carry you home.