Returning again

Begining again because so much has changed. There is less pressure, now, to write and become -- less pressure from the events that surround me -- something better than who I was turning into. So, I return to the void and peer down into myself and see what there is around me that has worth, beauty and wonder.

It is lightnin' and thunderin' this morning. Steinbeck's pressure cooker is on us and the dog instinctively burrows under a structure to escape the wrath from the sky. Those bright flashes that reveal every point and chases all the shadows of the early morning.

I walk the dog early in the morning because of the quiet and the relative coolness. Mostly for the quiet when everyone is nested away and there is nothing protecting them than their windows. I walk to burn the energy out of the dog but have found my own peace in it's pattern.

So the rain has begun . . . this habit of writing is hard to pick up again . . . writing in verse seems so much easier.

There is work to be done.