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.