|this picture has no connection with the text below, just random beauty|
I was trying to read, reading about writing
instead of writing what someone else
might or might not want to read
and remembering a dear old, no,
young, blogging friend, who,
once started a thing he titled
Randomly Disturbed Thursdays.
I realised it was, in fact,Thursday
and after all that, still I sat
reading about writing, my highly sensitive self
aware of the most annoying, distracting
sound of a leaky faucet, drip by drop.
I inquired of my husband, who
sat beside me at the kitchen table, also reading
"Where is that dripping coming from?"
Having no answer, he turned his page
continuing, while my ears, ever sharp
even in their half-deafness, tried to discern
"Could it be coming from the bathroom?"
"I can check" he replied, yet did not.
"You're sure it's not the kitchen sink?"
I turned to stare, to see if I could spy
a silvery slip of something, no
not there, but still, the tap, tap, rhythmic
almost like the ticking of a clock, yes
almost like the clock just behind me
on the wall, the second hand perfectly timed
to the same pestering sound.
On this Thursday, I found
random, disturbed, profound
the truth, nothing is as we first
believe, flexibility is essential
and a touch of silly helps sometimes
when you're finding it hard to breathe.