Got through lung cancer. Got through chemo. Got through picking up and carrying 42 pounds of water in the house this morning.
I’ve been having vivid dreams lately, which is pretty neat. I like to wake up with interesting thoughts and old music playing out in my head.
Inspiration is coming back. I’ve missed it. When my world narrowed into rounds of chemo and recovery, blood tests and booster shots, my focus shifted inward for months.
I’ve picked up a new target shooting hobby. I rarely doom scroll anymore. There are too many interesting things to look at and do.
Internal silence. The quietness of mind and body that is all too rare for these older bones. Mental fog? None. Achy muscles, gone.
A mental list of things I could do formed and swirled like a throng of blackbirds wheeling effortlessly, cohesively
Tasks, ideas, plans, they wove an intricate pattern of instinctive order out of daily chaos and intransigence
What was formerly a tumbling rock slide insurmountable opened up to a path to the other side, the true resting place
I will enjoy this clarity and energy for the short time it is here, without the spectre of chronic pain that hovers, lurks and waits to once again strike
Pluff mud poetry 
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