Home sick on a beautiful day. I want to run and leap in the sun, it’s been raining so long, but I can’t breathe. A pot of tea, I try to coax the steam up my nose. Come on, open up, clear a way. Sip. Don’t burn your lips. Steam.
I am weary of restless rest. Like scratching a scab, continual sound, I drown myself in noise. Rest, silence, heal, tea. Dream, but I dream of work. The sun woke me, and I was shocked to discover a clear, blue sky.
The tea is working, and I can breathe again.
Tale Told 