Leaves fall like flowers with sharp edges on Christmas cards
that masquerade as snowflakes while I sit here,
the rush of the seat of my kitchen chair a nice distraction, prickling my hands
as the water running by pricks my feet.

My fiber seat imagines it’s the rush of the stream,
that the center tying it all together is the liquid’s bellybutton.

But honestly, it stands out-
Like leaves orange once a year.
But actually, that’s sometimes the point.

There’s beauty to playing pretend; They call it creativity. They call it
practicing for being your matured self. Your self that stands out-
The flower in full bloom midst the snowflakes falling down.
The many strands of rush that are rooted in one spot.
The sharp prodding over once overwhelming cold.
The artist in the current sitting still.