The Window Was Open
A small, good morning. The kind that changes the temperature of a whole day
The window was open a few inches
and the whole room had changed because of it.
Early air drifting in.
Curtain lifting and settling like it had its own slow rhythm.
A bird outside carrying on like the morning belonged to him.
Your coffee still warm.
Heat in the mug.
Soft carpet under your feet.
Light easing across the floor.
The kind that makes ordinary things look chosen.
A chair. The edge of the bed. The shirt you left draped there last night.
And for once, the day isn’t asking for anything yet.
It’s just this.
The open window.
The breeze touching your arms.
The low buzz of a house coming awake somewhere nearby.
A small kind of peace.
Easy to miss if you rush past it.
Easy to keep if you stay still a second longer.
So you do.
And for a minute
your whole life feels simple in the best way.
// Scorpio Veil
