This morning was,
am,
overly introspective
if that’s a thing.
Maybe the word
overly
is
overly judgmental.
Whatever.
I think something about losing
last night
and tossing and turning
and tossing and turning
and waking sore and tired
has something to do with it.
Or maybe it’s the wind,
incessant,
unstoppable,
irritating,
cold.
I could reach for a metaphor there,
but I won’t.
Too easy.
Too trite.
Maybe that’s
overly judgmental too.
Because my thoughts
flowing unevenly, crashing
as much like waves
as like wind
isn’t the worst metaphor
for a morning like this.
Incessant.
Unstoppable.
Irritating.
Cold.
Though I feel sharp regardless,
like thoughts could cut,
but into what?
I developed a useful guide for my team;
refined and carefully considered.
Quality.
I feel some sense of pride of work
because I know it is good.
Sharp.
Though it is a rare problem
it is an elegant troubleshoot, and
I have solved it
for all.
And I sit in satisfaction
though others are unlikely to appreciate
its quality,
its sharpness
as I do.
What have I cut into?
Why have I cut into?
Overly introspective
perhaps
was apt.
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