These Very Luxuries

A poem on everyday richness.

I walk to the sink and turn the faucet on.
Deep breath in, I cup my hands and welcome
Icy water into their small pool. My face dips
Down into the cold plunge and I swim in
A fresh lake basin. 

I drive down the street with windows open.
Balmy air, warm, blows into the car and
Tangles my hair. The music is loud with
Freedom and small pieces of who I am 
Start to come back.

I brew a cup and sit at my corner desk.
Hot steam rising, I open my laptop to a 
Draft of this poem. A thirty minute reprise 
Is all I need to fill with words. To tell of
These very luxuries. 

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