Sometimes you just stop and think, 'my life is nice,' y'know? Like when I woke up this morning, and even though I'd woken up at two a.m. for a while, I'd fallen asleep again eventually, so that in the end, I got about eight hours for the first time in a while, and felt rested. And it was light out, and sunny. And I didn't have to get out of bed right away, so I stayed in bed with Ellie curled up against my back and read Steven Brust's Jhereg
for about an hour. And it was all good.
Is there anything
as not having to get up
at six a.m.
to catch a bus at seven
to catch another bus at seven-fifty
to arrive at eight-forty-five --
still half-asleep and bitter --
at a job you hate?
I was thinking that I hadn't written nearly enough poetry lately, and that maybe in December I'd try writing a quick poem a day, just to get my mind back in that mode. We'll see. It can't hurt to start early. :-)