writing 11.24.08

My hands are feeling the stress of the anticipation of flying the coop from my favorite island. They see how easily my feet tap their way through the tunes that are enchanting my ears and they long to make such an easy way through the day. Instead they act coy with the keyboard when trying to write about chicken and only find their way seamlessly when writing about their stresses.

Oh my little hands, you crack me up. Today I wish you were on a walk and entwined with someone else’s.