I wake highly opinionated
not knowing the facts.
I make coffee.  

Throughout the country
countable mirror images
do the same.  

I open windows.
An aroma of war
flutters through the bee balm.  

I’m falling down,
not hitting the ground
in a space without grab bars.  

I hunt something, something hunts me.
They circle to form a taijitu
to stand on.  

Paddleboard yoga takes balance.
Concentration evaporates
if I look for shore.