There is luxury
in moments spent
idly watching
the sumac sway
to an ancient
verdant dance
laughing softly
as they gavotte
in the morning sun.
There is luxury
in tattered jeans
well worn
perhaps with holes
your Mother clucked
and told you to change
before you climbed
into the car
for shopping.
There is luxury
in lying flat
on a hardwood floor
with Miss Frieda
oblivious to flies
buzzing in the patch
of sunlight slanting
golden shafts
across the room.
There is luxury
in simple things
without remorse
or thinking much
about life
or next week
just capturing
the beauty
of the moment.
ml’25