Pinecone

Poem about a slow and exciting morning

“Road in the Cuyamacas” by Charles Reiffel via Smithsonian

I’m laid out flat on my back on my concrete patio.
My hands are folded on my stomach. 
My tea is growing cold at my side. 
About fifteen feet above, a pinecone dangles from its branch.
It swings and shakes and bumps up against its neighbors. 
It bobs back and forth a few more times.