A First Response

The gloom settles like low lying fog
along the floor of my room.

So many reasons to stay in bed
but one nagging pinched nerve

With lightening across my skull
I unlock my phone. Wretched thing it is.

Used to open up the news every morning
Now I pull up the verse of the day.

I try to hold it in my mind in the shower
like huddling around a campfire.

I blow on those coals
I fan the flames I try to get them bright

There is a wind at my back
A wind that is not my own.

Soon it is hard to look into the light
In the dark and warmth of the shower.

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