I sit alone on a chair by the window
and nudge the curtain aside, silently
the sky may speak with an owl gliding by
I wouldn’t want to miss

My feet dry and tired from a life away
get smothered with rose body butter,
adorned with tales of the boreal forest
sweet and earthy, I let myself melt

I anoint my pulse points on wrists and ankles
with lavender oil, a lullaby for the nose
my breath slows to the heartbeat of the stars
just on the other side of the curtain