I made it through the day,
my SLATE of “to dos” now done.
My body sags a little, a sense
of heaviness hangs about me.
I MOURN — the passing of time,
another day older, all the things
that feel bitter and hard.
An ONION, some garlic, the bits
and pieces of dinner wait to be prepped.
Solace awaits in the KNOWN and familiar

Georg’ann

GROUP of individuals
weave and dart

In sunrise reflection
WHOLE is construct

I let go.
Cannot be KNOWN.

Heather