uzbek suzani, from apartment therapy

i sit with the will to write and realize that i've got nothing to grab onto. no stories to tell or witty references to make. just morning gazing on a soft chaise lounge with wispy tendrils of consciousness drifting through an otherwise quiet mind. my thoughts are of  farmer's market strolls and elliptical dreams. hummingbirds at my window and my yoga mat. piles of pennies on the table being painstakingly counted to pay for travels to far far away and for children that need to be fed. a body that craves endurance and sweat. and some new shoes. books that are speaking to me and movies that make painful sense. yearnings for adventure and stability in unison. tenderness and gratitude for all that is right now. something intangible that is busting forth, flowering and finding home deep within me. curiosity about capital letters and proper grammar and whether or not i should let on that i do, in fact, know how to use both. flowers for my altar and chia seeds in my breakfast drink. an itch for a new sofa and a vintage suzani on my bed.

a child to wake up and running shoes to put on. 

the last sip of coffee.

slowly and sleepy, i am making my way into this foggy, obscure and possible day.