I woke up at six a.m. with the intention of doing some yoga and then writing a little bit. One thing I discovered, is that I can’t wake up and do yoga. I can wake up and go for a run, or wake up and go for a bike ride; however, the need to think and plan (other than moving in a linear fashion as in the other activities) was too much for my brain to handle.
So I enjoyed the miracle of the automatic coffeepot, poured a cup, read some of the Atlantic and gradually woke up.
Eventually, though I did do some writing. What I like about poetry is that you can get a draft down in 20-30 minutes. Maybe I’ll use this again, or maybe it will just sit in a notebook like a thought, until the ink gradually spreads across the page forgotten.
The poem was about distance. The physical distance between family members, and how it can seem overwhelming to cross that distance.
It was good to get something on the page. Always is.