Random

Today I feel random. Like I’m floating in the air being pushed by the wind to seemingly disconnected destinations. My thoughts feel scattered. My focus is out of whack (whatever “whack” is; I’ve never heard of being “in whack,” only out of). Composing this piece I went from Tea to Work to Poetry and left it all hanging.

Tea
There’s nothing like a nice hot cup of tea in the evening with my wife. It’s a nice wind down time together.

Work
I leave for work at about 7:20 or so on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Wednesday and Thursday I meet with friends at 6:00 (okay, I’m usually late) and then go on to work. I leave work between 5:00 and 5:30 and get home about 6:00 or shortly after.

Poem 1
Words are hard on certain days.
It seems there’s not much left to say.

Poem 2
Dream awhile.
Dream a life, full and free.

Sometimes I feel like that’s the story of my life, that I’m left hanging. Always starting, never finishing. Pushed along variously by either a gale or a gentle breeze.

It occurs to me that the common connection is the air itself. And the places I alight are not destinations at all. They are part of the journey.