There are days when words come easily. They pour out. Generous. Sparkling with insight – or so at least I’d like to think. Then there are other days. Days when you wake up and stumble over something as you step out into the world. It may be a mean-spirited piece. A harsh word that caught you defenceless. Or perhaps it is the wave of a moon not yet asleep. It depletes you of will. And no matter how much you may try, you find you soul barren of feeling and your mind racing through the dust, unable to settle on one thought alone.
This is one of those days. Doors will not open. The curtains are drawn, and the beauty of an expired day torn away from me before I could try it for taste.
I refuse to let it end that way, so I delve into my chest of treasures to find another day. One that had not passed me by unexamined. Here is my find. A little creature. It may be a bug, although I can’t be sure. It carries a barrel of flowers into the last moments of today and I share them with you.
Let them make your morrow brighter if yours was a cloudy sky and all the sunnier if contentment is yours.