Who knows if this will work for me in the long run, but I currently love the idea of being extra poetic on Fridays. There is just something a bit magically about transitioning out of one week and waiting for the next.

I didn’t live the poetic, wandering sort of life as deeply as I wanted to this week. That may be more because I have ridiculous expectations for myself than me actually not being a poetic wanderer…

I did watch the leaves change from summer green to stormy silver as the clouds built up in the sky. I did write poem after poem. I even read a poetry collection. I didn’t sink into everything though. My mind was racing in to many directions. I squeezed myself into the week’s parameters instead of really living it. Now I am tired and cranky and can’t seem to enjoy the things that I actually accomplished.



Dear Time,

Where you passing me again
while I was struggling to live?
Do you think that is fair?
You running on while I
can hardly breath deep
enough to say your name?

-sare chafin



Next week is coming and I have all weekend to work on being present and not feeling squished into a cage of my own making. That is plenty of time. Right?