I rise before the sun,
preparing for another day
of pushing paper and dodging drama.
With back and joints screaming to return to bed,
I plop myself instead
into the old thrift store orange vinyl chair
ready for inspiration.
No external prompt to prod my muse.
unintentionally holding my breath,
I stretch my fingers for the keys
and start to drive without direction
Disappointment takes a soft left
as words skip onto the electronic page.
I smile in spite of myself
feeling like I’ve just found an empty field
full of fireflies.
I’m noticing a lot of road and driving metaphor in my work lately. Perhaps my subconscious is going somewhere… or demanding that I do. ;)