There is a sugar jar on the kitchen counter, always there by the stove. All day the spoons dip in, hoping to sweeten what is bitter.
The day is so full, full of all of the things that I've wanted. My days are so full that when the sun goes down, I don't have even a half teaspoon of sugar left to give. Then it's time to fill.
I sit in my studio, lights low, drinking my tea and maybe indulging in one more bag of Cracker Jacks. I look at what I've done and what I want to do tomorrow. I listen to Raising the Fawn and a Rilke poem, Palm. My mind can sit still now. I feel it.
In the morning, the jar will be full of sugar again, ready to sweeten another day.
Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walk