An unhurried awakening,
a wafting in of all that is salubrious and sylvan.

The defenestration of belched acrimony,
even as there is a whiff of osmotic wholesomeness near at hand.

A mindless meandering, a rambling ratiocination,
a souk soaked in succulent serendipity.

Cassiopeia on a lost, listless horizon and copper-coloured, cloudy, cocktail skies.

You…and the non-intrusive and natural night.