Thirty-One: Week Three

Days fifteen through twenty-one

Photo by Tobias Keller on Unsplash

Welcome back to Thirty-One, the project where I attempt to write something every day for a year. If you missed any previous issues, you can find them by clicking here.

Day Fifteen (May 11th)
Ebb and flow. Dwindle and 
rise. All things are a cycle. Nothing
is new. It’s time to come
around again. 

Day Sixteen (May 12th)
I’m always late. I live in lateness. Late-night thoughts spiral like smoke disappearing into the ether. Here one minute, gone the next. Invisible strands transform into something new. 

During late mornings, I lose myself in the pages of a book and a cup of coffee. Birdsong carries on the breeze, and the sun is not yet lethal. The feeling becomes a bookmark. 

Day Seventeen (May 13th)
A while back I pulled a fern out of a crevice in one of the oak trees in my yard. I planted it in a small white pot and placed it on the windowsill. Some of the leaves turned brown and shriveled to nothing, but the few that remained were enough. They stayed small while the roots settled. But the next fronds that unraveled were longer, wider. And the fronds after that were more lush still. Now half the windowsill is brimming with ferns. I like to caress the leaves when I walk past and imagine what I could become.

Day Eighteen (May 14th)
the soft light of dusk
lingers longer in summer
my spirit pauses

Day Nineteen (May 15th)
Take a break. Do nothing. Be nothing
other than calm. Sometimes peace
is a nap on the couch, snuggled
beneath a blanket of soft fleece. 

Day Twenty (May 16th)
Promises delayed by the onset
of exhaustion. “I love you” and
“I’m sorry” become placeholders. 
Just wait till tomorrow. Tomorrow 
I’ll be better. 

Day Twenty-One (May 17th)
Sleep. All I want
is sleep.

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