My eyes are tired and I use drops to calm the sting.
In the morning, I open the door and the smell of smoke lingers there.
It will be awhile before our days again grow drowsy and all our fears subside.
I have items to sew, ideas to make manifest, yet it is with words I seek company.
My appetite for books is voracious.
My hunger ravenous.
Reading is all I want to do.
But tomorrow, hopefully, I will finally again dust off my sewing machine and have something of craft worthiness to share.