(this one needs work, but i haven’t even looked at it, just memory says it’s worth looking at)
lamplight, and through the window-screen cool air is flowing over a soft tan couch that was smiling with old wrinkled eyes, because he had pillows on his lap. sitting next to the couch is a red paint-crackling table that is worn with age, although he has some papers with little words softly sitting on his shoulders. in the corner a baby swing is humming her melody as she quietly churns the baby back and forth, back and forth. if you listen beneath the humming and whispering air you can hear soft breathing, you can almost hear the cozy sounds, although before this evening at our house i didn’t know what cozy sounded like. down the hall the cool air quietly walked, and then washed up and lapped against my feet and the leafy green desk. the green desk was soaking up the cool water-air and kept the forest of books in his corner fresh with life. a small desk lamp was breathing light on the green desk, and the cool air and light were combining into a lively freshness that smelled like rain, or maybe it was dew. either way the fresh mixing was painting a morning aura all about, even on the soft dust that was floating from here to there, which was snowing all about the room. with winter here i quietly closed my book. i wanted to keep that cozy sound resting on my ear, and as i retired to bed i heard and felt that cozy sound resting in the night, warm as lamplight and fresh like the morning dew.