Tuesday, July 19


It looks a lot like a fisherman's wharf. It's foggy and misty, and late in the night.

It sounds like the calm, storm-free cove. Waves are slight and easy, and everyone is sleeping.

It feels like the season is fall, but almost winter. It is chilly-not to the bone, but it bites a little at your nose, and makes you want to sink into 5 blankets.

It's not completely bewildered, but it is definitely confused. It is not completely hushed, but somewhat silent. It's intimidating, but not full of fear.

It feels completely soaking, but not overwhelming or overpowering. It feels like walking through mud, but with the adequate shoes and pants.

Bogged. Bogged down, no. Just, mostly, bogged.

And for whatever reason, or for no reason at all, Mr. Bogged is attempting to take residence on my block.

The opposite of bogged down might be something like cleared up. I'm praying for lots of sun and light, to dry up this soaky sponge.

No comments:

Post a Comment