A cool gentle breeze blows, indicative of a change on the horizon. It feels crisp and fresh, and I would enjoy it more if it weren’t 3 AM. I lean against the front porch column in the shadows cast by the streetlight. With my eyes closed, I try not to doze and drop the dog’s leash.
My sweet, geriatric old lady dog’s digestive system governs my sleep schedule, and tonight is a three poop night.
– Written for Day 5 of Awake August 2016, 31 Days of Mindful Writing in the form of Small Stones (concise daily observations) from Writing Our Way Home. Photo ©2015 Leara Morris-Clark.
Leara writes and other creative things... 