Words, like crickets, leap from my mind –
chirping pests whose trajectory eludes
my dulled reflexes, scuttling around the
periphery of my awareness.
Harmless, really, in the singular; a cacophony in multitudes threatening to multiply further and rob me of this semblance of sanity.
I must intuit their rhythm, define the notes in workable phrases, capture the essence of their meanings and inscribe the message before they disappear again.
Writer, avid reader, former educator, and proud grandmother, currently experiencing life through the lens of ME/CFS. Words are, and always have been, a lifeline. Some of the best adventures, I'm discovering, take place in the imagination.