I wake at 4am but stay in the warmth of bed, drafting poems in my head.

I stitch together words about the palpable silence, enfolding me like velvet.

Craft prose about my nine-year old’s ability to now use tweezers on his own.

I sift in the warmth of jersey sheets, the soft pillow under my head, the scent of aloe soap on the Bohemian’s bare skin next to me. I do not want to leave this bed to write. I’d like to languor here, right now.

And so I do, until I drift back to dreams, sleeping in til sunrise.

Since I’m on vacation this week, I’ll allow myself to drop kick my writing discipline.

Take a morning hike with Jeb and Moodha the dog instead. We wander through damp guava groves and forests of norfolk pines. As we walk, he’ll occasionally pose a question toward the future afternoon.

“Can we watch a movie when we get home?”

“Right now we’re in the guavas with Moodah. Let’s be here for now.”

Jeb offers good reminders.

Funny, this time/space thing. The here and now.

Right now in this moment, I post forest photos from the past, intended for your viewing in the future. Go figure.

Wherever you find yourself on the continuum, I hope you are enjoying your present.