Pooped

After a morning shuffle through the sun-speckled neighborhoods of the southwest metropolis, a top-secret, urgent mission delivery across the river to the wilds of Oakdale, and an overdue mowing of the lawn, your Brightly author is pooped. Being pooped first thing on a Monday morning feels ominous and slightly sinister, as if the week has gotten a head start and is sticking its tongue at me over its shoulder as it sprints into the future. Oh dear.

For inspiration and an antidote to all that is ominous, let's turn to today's Dickinsonian oracle:

Light is sufficient to itself -
If Others want to see
It can be had on Window Panes
Some Hours in the Day.

But not for compensation -
It holds as large a Glow
To Squirrel in the Himmaleh
Precisely, as to you.
(E. Dickinson, 506)