in the shadow of a succulent
I find myself watching
the derelict home of an absent arachnid
wave with the breeze
providing no comfort or capture
but simplying hanging as a remnant
of life’s gradient cycle
floating between my eyes and the backdrop of
forrest, midnight, hunter,
ever, ivy, mint,
teal, pine, moss,
jungle, army, fern,
myrtle, artichoke, laurel,
light, sap, kelly,
dark, shamrock, tea,
celadon, sea, neon–
and everything in between
leading me to believe that
life itself is rapture
and all the rest is nomenclature