a clear (almost) midnight
This is the hour, O soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best: Night, sleep, death, and the stars.
~ Uncle Walt (Whitman)
I feel that I so seldom write these days. Is it the winter sluggishness that makes me less prone to writing? I'm not sure, but lately I feel like I have zero energy at the end of the day for anything like writing, or (still) organizing things in my not-quite-new-anymore-cabin.
Today was a rough day. Emotionally rough. I had a strange (and later resolved) confrontation at work; and Tuesdays are just long anyway. I work 6:30am-2:30pm then have a meeting from 4pm-6pm. I have stayed away from my little cabin all day and am avoiding it now. Avoiding the inevidable cold which will greet me both out of doors and in; having turned my thermostat down to 60degrees F this morning. I am now making myself ready to walk away from everything, leave today behind, sleep. But first, I will bundle up and face the cold.