i become the world at the kitchen table
i can listen to a great song and know i wrote it.
be the feathers on the wings of birds
they fly by and i am the wind.
i can be the green in the leaves
i can be the brick of the chimney
and the smoke inside it.
i am the breakfast on the table
which fills you up
the coffee which warms you
i can be the time between our eyes and our gaze
i can be the spider and the web.