Consoled by blankets, tea,
and -hushed clanks of heater, refrigerator's whoosh,
dog's breath- something like silence,
I quiet myself
-Or attempt that perplexing process.-
I need more: silence, hearing, humor.
Less: distrust, words.

I feel the malady of the quotidian of late.  The swiftly moving days, the inability to stop myself mid-motion and let myself see.  It is good to stop and listen, to look, to find the beauty in the full tilt.  There is much I need to hear, to learn, to celebrate.

Beauty has been sneaking up on me, pushing itself into my squinted eyes.  To be honest, I don't always recognize it.  I mistake it for other things, for a good nights sleep maybe, or simple science.  As is the case often with me, I am hesitant.  Hesitant to claim it, reluctant to state an absolute I can not defend with well phrased logic.  I am also hesitant to gush, for fear both of loss, as if an overabundance of words could kill a thing and for fear of oversimplification, this cannot be explained in my half-knowing language.

And yet, there it is.  Happily, tentatively.  The pessimist in me fears beauty for how easily it can be lost, however I am starting to be able to latch onto the joy of it, while knowing, even if... "all shall be well" for fear and over-thinking can also kill a thing.