Morning

The flowers on my altar are wilted. I may get a potted plant to place there, something that will live for a while. I light candles and sit. Mind doesn't want to settle, flits from thought to thought, wants to get running with my day. Hear the pounding of hammer strokes, the steady regular heartbeat. Feel the sun shining through the east window, my regular breaths, and then a deep sigh, giving up the tension of restlessness.