at the end of the day

mint tea in the mug with the gingko leaves
with an extra squeeze of honey –
you know, from the bear-shaped bottle
I could never resist in spite of
(or because of) its silliness

somehow the steam against the chin
erases the sort of day it has been –
one of uncertainties and niggling headaches,
disorientation contending with
those first hopeful expectations

and I am tired of the way worry
pokes at my ribs with sharp-ended fingers,
but mint tea and a warm light
against the night outside my window
soothes and smoothes the edges

so that I can fold it away
because afterall, come tomorrow
today will be yesterday’s news –
best forgotten

© Sarah Whiteley

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today I shall be

today I shall be not quite
and content with blurred edges
companioned by sounds that are muffled
by the silences my maybe head makes

today I shall sit and be potentially
with a chance of feasibility
and the rustle of a few quiet thoughts
that might or might not be there

today I shall be perchance
and take rest in the promise of my perhaps
while softly September might possibly stir
whatever is or is not here

© Sarah Whiteley

To say that I am tired would be an understatement. The first of the work deadlines is behind me and it was Brutal (yes, with a capital ‘B’) – long days and no weekends and a forced working pace that nearly brought me to tears a few times. So it’s no surprise that I’ve got quite a bit of post reading to catch up on. Today, however, I think will be about recovery. I’ll eventually get around to catching up, but I think my sanity insists upon a little ‘disconnect’ for now.