. . . You feel as though you are staring down the barrel of the week.
You think you need the whole world to line up just to do your thing.
Are you caught in the paralyzing fantasy of choice? Stuck in the cereal aisle of life?
Try this: Write a poem about a choice you must make, a person you miss, a need you have.
Or give a thought and a dollar to someone in Ukraine or on the run from there.
Monday, I think, looks different on the far side of something made, something given.
Like all days.