The Reality We Tend To

To what do I grant my attention

on this quiet, azure blue morning?

Do I notice

the way sleeping trees stir

against a backdrop of rising sun?

Or the way snow glistens

beneath street lamp light

shimmering as though it holds

infinite stars in its milky way coat?

Or do I turn, as I so often do,

to the small window that fits in my palm

that lets me peer back in time

at snapshots of other people’s lives

and streams of news polluted,

its flow disconnected

from sleeping trees, rising suns

and the galaxies that live in the fabric of snow?

To what reality will I grant my attention

on this quiet, azure blue morning?

© Gillian Florence Sanger

Photo by Alexandr Podvalny on Unsplash