June 4, 2025: Writing Longer Lines

I'm trying to write longer, languorous lines, you know, as I have not been writing like I should.

These lines might form a rib, a bit, an attempt at honest expression, or an artistic endeavor to keep me from my dotage.

To shake off the brain fog, post-Covid before I fix my shaky, sore carpal tunnel hands and get back to work.

I wake up numb in brain, fingertips straining and hurting, finding it hard to talk, momentary, mental lapses, and an inability to move, work, or think.

The cabin helps as the bright sun shakes off the long upper Midwest winter, which felt like it lasted eight months this year.

The mosquitoes materialize from seemingly nothing to work like tiny Draculas on all available creatures.

A bald eagle screeches in its deceptively tiny bird voice, and the chipmunks chase each other with much commentary.

A toad hops through the gray dirt of the campfire pit in search of a cool escape from the torturous sun's red rays.

I defog as I watch every other creature move through the green undergrowth.

I'm hoping to heal, to regrow, to move on in these slow later days of the 2020s.