Chamomile tea, steeped in warm oatmilk. A dash of vanilla extract and honey.
Sunshine on my desk. And sunshine on my arms.
Beyond my window, the wintering lavender and birch trees move with the wind.
I want to steep. Like the chamomile.
I want shine. Like the sun.
I want to move. Like the lavender and birches.
And so I say,
Let it be. Let it be.
May it always be so.