Tamara Willems

an oh-so-common luxury…

This morning what I’m feeling is a great deal of pain
in my forearms, wrists, hands and fingers
numbness in my right hand and swelling,
painful limited movement in my left thumb
hands that have served me well,
but also need to
making it quite uncomfortable to hold my book
so I rest it (instead of the small dog)
in my lap
outside the window the sky is rather grey
rain is imminent
despite the state of my slightly over abused hands
I am sitting

this rainy day was expected, and is welcomed
the spring garden I think,
looking quite ravishing
with most things thickening up by the day
beautiful varying shades of green bursting forth
is not expecting a thing from me today
except to be enjoyed
for all of its luscious beauty

brief flips through social media these past few days
has me feeling sort of
I guess one could say,
in a mood to willingly be swallowed
by cynicism
this morning I come across a post from a writer
who is struggling a little with a kind of,
what is the point really, who’s even reading or paying attention
to any of this, what actually am I putting out here
of value… to
grumbles of algorithms, likes, follows and
and I guess I am comforted a bit by this,
mutual walking through puddles
if I might consider myself a fellow writer
with sometime

I have myself been questioning a bit just what kind of ego
thinks anyone should care what kind of driveling
thoughts I might have
to share
although I am by no means dependent upon
this sharing of words
in any monetary fashion
and really don’t bother much with names and
it certainly is heartening to find
that the words drifting through my head
and fingers
have somehow planted themselves
as to possibly brighten just that

a little bit

so again, I spill…
(to a fault)

well really,
what could be better on a gentle rainy day
such as this,
then to sit in one’s chair
resting things that ache
a nourishing of sorts
the offering of a personal sort of
(to one so deserving)
a long read, then to

of an oh-so-common luxury,
spring rain
and a quiet sit
by the window,

to watch the garden

even if,
I may find, yet again
I am talking
myself ♥

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