No time to write this morning, though I've been up since Zero.
I sit at the counter of a local diner, waiting. Soon I will be devouring bacon and eggs and biscuits, to slow the advancing coffee.
I am feeling artless this morning.
It is probably the effect of too many prayers directed towards me through the aether.
I have been preparing my Thanksgiving Day speech.
My imaginary audience is really in for a treat, as the turkey slows their dreams and the cranberries take orbit.
.
