it could be the light that falls on
the flower bushes, tinkling
between the coming slips
of rain. 
 
or the joy of seeing
the first bite into a supple
dumpling, springy noodles. 
 
it could be the way leaves 
dance beneath the downpour,
cushioning the patter against
asphalt, the winding whip 
of petrichor. 
 
or really it could be the single
slice of matcha cake, chocolate
chips soft between each grassy
crumb, the cups of coffee sweeter
as they cool, and the way the
 
afternoon rolls by, hours
passing in love after love
after love.