Ground rocks, under feet.
Pulverised, and broken into fragments.
Sand.
The ocean shaping, pushing and pulling.
Clouds overhead, light through them.
Cutting lines on their edges, casting moving shadows on the earth beneath.
Trees, reaching up, touching the sky and pointing at the clouds.
This, while birds wheel in the sky.
And I?
In this moment, I move paint over canvas.
Alive.
And wide awake.
