This is honestly the first Monday when I don’t have a thought to fill the page. I have many thoughts but not just one. And the many thoughts I have are crowding the other out so none of them are able to spill forth into a culmination of anything concrete let alone abstract.
Perhaps it is time for a poem:
I am noticing the wet leaves on the sidewalk,
Stinky soccer cleats on stairs.
Umbrellas and rain boots, out from hibernation,
Damp from recent usage.
A new season brings new awareness.
I see the tomato plant hangs on with her green fruit,
Pine needles and spider webs collect in corners.
The Crockpot waits to be dusted off, new recipes begging to be
A new season awakens the old and even though leaves are falling
Birth is about to take place.
I see it in the children’s faces, the color of the sun, and in the neighbor’s garden.
I feel it in words I read, the phrases I speak but most of all in the quiet, change of the wind
As she blows with great intention.
by J. G. McGlothern