The day is nearly over, and even though there were innumerable distractions today no matter where I turned my head, I got my poem in. Seriously, we all can find 15 minutes in our day to get this poem thing done. And if we can’t, well, we probably should be getting our busy-butts out of bed 15 minutes earlier.

(If you have no idea what I’m talking about, here’s my first post talking about The Stafford Challenge.)

Day 2!

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Write Again

Creation groans under the weight of my pen, so minuscule a thing as it is. Yet the notebook paper rolls its eyes (punch holes?) at my attempts to mimic God like some cartoon ape properly picking up her cup of tea (pinky out!) with her hand-like feet, right before shoving a finger up her nose and flinging her poo. I screech in frustration, throw the cup, watch the obscene beauty of destruction unfold across the concrete of my cage, wish creativity were as easy as this. But God gathers my monkey hands into His, kisses the fur on my forehead, leads my excrement-flinging self out of the mess inside the iron bars and into the sunshine grass, to array me in the glory so beyond my reach.