today i noticed:
the way my calves felt strong under my jeans
after a three mile run.
the squirrel that barked at me from a nearby tree
as i walked by with an apple.
the disagreement of the warm sun on my face,
and the cold breeze that chilled my nose.
my body telling me that i had missed lunch
when i stood up and my daydreams were dizzy.
the crunch of a fresh michigan apple
and that i live in a state with seasons that grow such sweet fruit.
the little bug that hitchhiked in my jacket
all the way to my 8 am class.
the stars that were still awake as i went for my morning run
before the clock had even struck 6.
the nutty notes in my morning coffee
whose blackness was tamed with just a touch of milk
that danced in my mug unlike any ballet choreography that could ever exist.
today i measured:
my appearance in confidence and passion,
not in pounds or pant sizes.
and each step became a poem,
and my commute a song,
and my work a refrain,
with successes and failures
both singing the symphony
of a thursday in october.