Feeling morose
In the aftermath
Even with enough sleep
Depleted
Like so much uranium
The zing is missing
But I hunt it,
Each muddy hoof print at a time
In the angels of his better nature
I know this adversity is for a reason
But being always on the receiving end of it,
I find it cruel
I caught one good idea at least…
In the light of sobriety and sleep,
Examine the remaining writings
But still not all the way back to Earth
The circuits all readjusting
Taking time for themselves,
Only as fast as they can
Writing to help settle the upheavals
Lost in Mist 