An artist's essay.
Or perhaps poem.
For a new day.
Sometimes it's a great relief to be distracted.
The dog will not walk herself.
The quail have run low on food and their coop needs a good cleaning.
And gosh,
If that laundry doesn't get going soon,
It will outbalance the few clothes left clean in the drawers.
And don't get me started on the state of the dust on the mantels or the debris collected throughout the winter-weary yard.
I move these things around on the to-do lists.
Ticking tasks takes away the sting sometimes.
The sting of not fully knowing what I am here for.
These tasks can ease the anguish that wants to nestle there in my ribcage.
Commanding me to do something worthwhile.
Maybe for once,
They taunt.
So today it is the quail coop.
Best to get it done before the forecast for sub-temperatures makes the task unbearable.
And I have left the flour and starter out on the counter with intention.
It would be good to get to that loaf of sourdough.
To have its scent rise in the morning air under the heat of the oven's glow.
And then tomorrow,
Yes,
Tomorrow there.
Sure and stalwart,
You will greet me in studio,
Over keypad,
Amongst the colors over canvas and the swirls of letters on paper.
You will give me that breath of life that is so necessary and required.
And surprise,
Surprise always comes.
The imagination needs the freedom of space in which to expand and grow.
I am not finished here.
Distraction today,
You are welcome.
Tomorrow I am here.
