Trickle of Consciousness

image from google


Yesterday I saw the interesting prompt at dVerse, to write a stream of consciousness poem.    I thought I'd give it a go.
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How to write something poetic and amazing, when my head is full of bears and wolves,
and a son living on the astral plane who thinks that's perfectly normal, as I'm watching young women who are more beautiful than they know throw themselves away on men not worthy of standing beside them because they dont think the man of their dreams will ever come so may as well be with whoever right now,  being alone and waiting  never seeming to be an option.


Sigh.


Inside my head is a jumble of things: things I need to do, basic life stuff like washing the floor, things I absolutely MUST do, creatively, but have no time to, so easy to let the hours drift and keep moving forward without taking the time to go back and tie up the loose ends, to just enjoy the pervasive underlying wonderful feeling of gratitude for my cozy little room, and my life, full of dogs and sunshine and peace, as long as I never answer the phone.


Poetic and amazing arent up there, in the gray sludge that is a tired 65 year old brain. The amazing part is still being able to string sentences and think of something, anything,  and better write it all down as fast as I can before dementia sets in and it's too late. Ditto re archiving my work which should be Priority One but never is. Why do we do things we know we will regret later, and then go "coulda woulda shoulda" forever?


Oh well, one can only live one day at a time, thankfully. And this morning I need to feed the birds outside, take sugar lumps and carrots to the elderly horse in the pasture, and let the dogs out to bark and loll in the sunshine. Hang the wash on the line, wash floors, in between sneaking peeks online to see what everyone is up to. I need - deeply need - to watch the clouds shift and move, and to just be in that moment of wonder, to reflect on  how I cant control the outcome of anything, and remember to feast my eyes on gilt-edged greenery today, in case there's rain tomorrow.


Generally an average day for your average bear, and a late afternoon sit on the porch swing with a cool drink, to watch the quality of the light change at the turn of the day towards evening, a half hour blessed with wonder, for anyone who thinks to raise her head to the sky and take it all in.