plants

It takes so little to upset me these days.
I walk through days as though they are glass, rapping on the windows,
fogging up the glass. Wiping with my hands.
All day I keep my windows open. 
Feel so uncomfortably hot, need the cold air to remember I am alive,
that I am a part of this world. That I breathe, that I feel.
These things, sometimes, are not so quick to come to my mind.
Slow, slow, slow down, baby. Even slower, baby.
Almost so that you can't tell that you're moving,
that's the pace these days, you need.
Even though we don't see them,
the plants are growing.