A Skip of Time - Feb. 21, 2026

a tree splits afternoon sunbeams

into warm fingers on my arm

the sky seems ceiling close

I could touch those clouds

wind is in the middle

of an afternoon nap

nothing needs to move

to feel that the world is alive

and in a moment before

a desire pulls me to my feet

or my mind jumpstarts

and transports me elsewhere

I see it, in a skip of time

this place is paradise