Another night of strange dreams that do not make sense.

Not feeling it.

I take my cacao, sit in the chair, and stare out the window.

A break in the clouds.

I don’t actually reread the poem before I share it because I never reread my work. I should break that.

He’s upset that I keep doing work on a sick day. He is not wrong. But I knew it needed to be done, so I help with this one thing. This one thing is just a big thing. They always feel like big things.

Night three without children. I appreciate the quiet but I do miss them.

The gift of time.

“Cotton Candy clouds.”

Soft water.