I feel a little altered, and it’s good.
I’m safe at home without a task that calls.
There’s gentle rain outside to darken wood
and speckle glass, and as the moisture falls
the tense contractions in my limbs unfold.
I glory in the heat that radiates
my room from flaming gas remote-controlled,
and settle in to what this page creates.

Admittedly, I smoked a little herb
when I returned from errands self-assigned,
and maybe I indulged in something more.
I have some inclinations I should curb,
but I’m of age and sound enough in mind
to spike my better judgment with my poor.