tasting calm

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedSteam rises,
a quiet warmth
held
between my hands,
as the world rushes
past the glass.

Here, the morning
breathes softly, a
pause,
a pocket of stillness
stitched into the
fabric of motion.

This
is my quiet
rebellion—
savoring
slow
while the world outside
keeps
spinning.

I am grateful for this—
the hum
of creation distant,
the weight
of feathers anchoring me,
the taste
of calm
sipped
slowly.