(No waves evident here; I just thought it might be good to share one of my peaceful photos ... this one taken at Cox Arboretum ... with this particular poem)
I don't think I was intended to be a morning person. Mornings have always been a struggle for me.
I know, I know. Morning is the best part of the day for the writer. Other concerns have not begun to intrude. The house is quiet. The brain is rested, ready to rev. Here's a whole new day beckoning.
But for me it's ... well, it's just morning. It takes me a little while to build some momentum.
I roll over, get one foot on the floor, then the other. I stand. I go teetering off in the general direction of the keyboard. I find the switch, flick it on.
By this time I have both eyes open. Things are starting to come into focus. And then, look out. Oh, look out! I'm starting to roll. I may even be writing soon.
This one was first published in Capper's:
CATCHING A WAVE
Down the avenues of my early-morning
mind zooms a flood of crowded, honking
thoughts that seek a place to park.
I’m too tired to direct traffic, too stressed
to sort them out. That must wait till later,
tongue losing its taste of suede, on the
verge of talk. But then they’re gone, not
a thought in sight, not a word of that
early-morning roar. Perhaps tomorrow.© 1999
Today's word: momentum