Many thoughts tumble, spin, and act out in the theater of my mind this morning. I brewed a simple chamomile to calm and soothe these acrobats into a slower pace so I could see their tricks more clearly, and discover the truth in their movements.
Forgive the prose, I’m in the midst of reading Till We Have Faces by C.S.Lewis, and the style has infected my own pen. Every author’s voice tends to take over the pattering in my head while reading. Is that strange? As long as the writer knows their proper use of grammar, I suppose it’s an immersive learning experience in style.
(Although the plain chamomile is soothing, what I want is a Java Full Moon: chamomile tea steeped in steamed milk with vanilla, honey and cinnamon. It’s a specialty tea drink from Professor Java’s Sanctuary. Currently off the menu, they will still make it if you ask. Specialty tea drinks have been on their menu for years- long before Starbucks started offering chai lattes. Go Java’s!)
Books and tea and trying to put thoughts in order so I can move along in my day. It’s healthy to stare into space with a warm cup of tea in your hand, but the “to-do” list needs to be shortened, and ain’t no one else to-doing it but me. I will write a poem and then be off (hopefully to swing by Prof Java’s at some point.)
The list steams on my desk
Like the kettle
reminding me to pour.
But each item takes such different times
And unlike water, they will not boil themselves away.
Move with intention.