The World Means Business

This morning,
time counts my words…
the world means business.

I stand outside in the light that’s rising
and begin waking things up:

Good morning, flowers!
Good morning, mint plant!
Good morning, dogs with your dog walkers,
swimmers in your swimming pool!

Good morning body…

[and when the wind blows]
Good morning, religion.

How can I spell this life out for you
as simply as possible,
so that even the ants understand…?

Or,
perhaps I mistook myself
for the sun.
(Don’t we all?)

Perhaps,
the ant has the most complex language of all of us — 
and perhaps it’s none of my business.

Last night,
I watched the sun disappear
into the flat Mediterranean — 
and my body held its breath.

Is this how you capture the sea?
By holding your breath?

They say that souls congregate
over the water.
They say that they enjoy when
the waves grace their orbs.

Do you think
that if they had breath to hold,
they would hold it?

This morning,
I thought the world meant business.

Then,
we lost electricity.

Throughout the rest of the day — 
little flashes bounced from wall to wall
in the bedrooms.

Little flashes struggled,
like miracles.