Semi-Daily Scribbles

Today I honored ritual because my feet barely touch the earth. I'd have floated off, never to be found, a long time ago if I didn't have habits to serve as an anchor. First on the list was typing. An early riser am I, running to the writing room to record fogged over dreams. The impressions of my surreal midnight reel, as it clacked on the spinning wheel, sure felt like truth slapped me silly. Notes led to pages of run-on sentences and feigned repentances. Then it was time to tip the basket of unfounded grounds, and grind until thoughts ran clear again. The screen blinked with each interjection supplied by my fast-talking brain.