and i get up
i make the tea
and i move
I read–mail, blogs, articles
and I ponder
are you okay
and I listen
who is in need, who is pleased, who is in fear
and I fly
outward in a ripple
answering the call
and I swallow
the tea
and I breathe
my edges back to me
and I consider
the cat, the baby beets
and I imagine
their tiny roots stretching, like that cat
through the soil, searching
made for grounding
automatic
sparks
and I get up
–elisabeth connelley