Not Today

For the Days of Rest

Some days don’t ask for progress. Just softness. Stillness. A warm drink by the window and the quiet knowing that joy can wait.

The sun came in like it always does,

soft, steady, almost kind.

There’s tea by the window,

birds chirping outside

as if the world is fine.

And maybe it is.

Somewhere, someone is falling in love

or dancing barefoot in their kitchen.

And I believe in that joy—

just not today.

Today, I’ll keep it simple.

Stretch my arms,

wear something soft,

drink something warm,

let the sky be the sky.

I’ll eat the snack,

call no one back,

water no trees or plants.

The beauty can wait.

The fire can sleep.

This isn’t forever.

It’s a pause,

a breath between heavy and light.

There’s good ahead,

and maybe even here.

But I’ll meet it

when I’m ready,

when the sky

is more than a sky

and rain falls no more.

Not today.