 Another day of staying home, the sun has arced its course, traversed the soaring blue-deep dome with quarantine in force. How was your day? What did you do? The question seems to scold. I ate, I walked, I tied my shoe; the day and I grew old. Without a job or task in line or friends’ reflected gaze, I cannot seem to self-define my self has bled to haze. In isolation’s empty hours our steam-vents jam and groan. The inner self erupts and cowers when trapped too long alone. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 243: 108 words, TOTAL = 39,950; 20,050 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
January 2021
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