Crows caw outside my window. The wind gently shifts slender tree branches. The clatter of keys accompanies my every thought and motion.
My fingers and my mind refuse to sit still. I want to write, I can feel the inspiration lurking. The possibility of endless stories limited only by focus and imagination.
But there’s a problem.
There’s too many and my mind won’t cease. My fingers won’t cooperate.
They’re restless and so am I.
So much is coming together at this moment, this little juncture in time. I’m bursting at the seams with ideas and considerations, with roads to travel and vistas to uncover.
Everything around me is still. But I, like the opposite of the Eye of the Storm, am awash with motion.
All I need is a push to send this chair sliding forward into the wild unknowns.