Napkin poems from today:

It just happened
A little tiny toad
Leaped on my hand
While gardening today. I
Was trying to access its weight in waiting.
They are always about to leap, frogs. So
You aren’t sure what they weigh. But it waited long enough
For me to sense the weight of the breath of life
At least, on my hand today. And then we, both, moved on
But it just happened.
//
“When you really fall asleep,
It’s like the world goes silent.”
My wife said to me today.
Not sure if that is good or bad
Maybe I talk too much when awake
But regardless, her words, strangely
Moved me.
//
I’ll return as soon as I am cognizant. Love said.
//
Baby yellow butterfly on red turk’s cap’s pinkish tips
And ants beneath her
Not to mention doves trying to land on spinning bird feeder nearby
And then clouds and volcanoes somewhere else rolling/erupting…
All proclaiming still, it is today.
//
Go slowly today
Until you really
Need to speed up.
For love’s sake, go!—both
Slow and fast.
//
The crooked tree in my backyard
Is trying its best with what it has been given
Between the mighty oaks and pecans
It can barely lean towards sun
And grow in between things upwards as it can
But what looks like sideways to the rest of us.