Trying to sort of organize myself creatively speaking, so here is just something small. A pair of haikus inspired by the nice break in weather we’ve been having in Pittsburgh.
The sun still shines down
But it has become friends with
The promise of fall.
The still-green grass grows
Slower now, preparing for
The leaves’ homecoming.
Why is it that every year when daylight savings time ends, that Sunday feels like the longest day of the year? I slept in this morning after starting National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and I’m still shocked that there is usable time to today!
What is that can make a single hour so special? Ever day, we take these little chunks of time for granted. We can zone out through an entire hour with no effort, or we can feel like asking for an hour is a life-changing request.
Just think of the things you can do with an hour for yourself:
- Journal, write or scrapbook. I especially love Project Life for this sort of thing.
- Watch an episode of your favorite show.
- Take a shower with your favorite soaps and shampoos.
- Take a walk around the block. Smell the flowers and appreciate the area you live in.
- Email a friend you haven’t talked to in a while and tell them what they mean to you.
- Clean up a section of your house. This could be a shelf, a closet, a drawer, anything! It’s crazy how much you can get done in even 20 minutes when that is what you are focused on.
- Meditate or pray.
- Read a book or play a video game.
What an hour truly comes down to is being mindful of what it is. If you take the time to be present in those 60 minutes, it’s amazing how much more refreshed you feel after it’s over.
How did you spend your 25th hour today?
I blow on the bubble wand twenty-nine times
And each string of opalescent considerations
Floats out and away
And while some catch in updrafts
Others head over to the neighbor’s yard
With whom I have had a limited number of interactions
And I imagine a police car zipping up to the curb and being told
From the sidewalk
“Ma’am, we’ve gotten some complaints about bubbles.”
And I say
“If people have so little to worry about in their lives
That they have time to be concerned about
More air than substance
There but for the grace of God go them.”
Speaking of which
As I’m standing in the gray evening of
Twenty degrees below usual
Milkweed drifts in
Following the same path as the crystalline orbs
And I can’t tell the difference between them in the fading daylight
So I feel a bit better
Knowing I’m not the only one trying to have a little fun.