Oh Grapple, Grab, Grind

The moon shed light tonight in wide, florescent slate streaks along the sides of the house. Rhododendrons cast deep shadows across the wood, enlarged and angled into tree sized beasts. The gravel crunched with a satisfied, cold, clanking beneath my feet. A few stray cicadas still dapple the high trees, singing their sweet goodbyes to summer, outlasting most of their kin.

Thin.
Bare.
This is my line of thought just a few days before a major MFA deadline. I’m at a standstill. Or cliffhanging, rather; fingernails ripping at the seams. I drink two beers. Play guitar with friends. Sing loudly almost all day long. I do yoga on the porch in the morning. I read and reread and revise and delete five pages and make new paragraphs and still…Flatline.

Self care. Rest. Exercise. A varied diet. But mostly, rest. I’ve got to sleep my way into re-inspiration. Oh sweet pillow, here I come.