|At a bridge waiting while cycling in Holland.|
It seems as if I am waiting. Waiting for the harvest to ripe. Waiting for all the mumble and grumble in these past months to slowly ebb away leaving under the murkiness a jewel for me to use.
I am waiting for more energy I have not. I struggled, fought, creased my brows and ruffled my bed with sleepless nights.
I tried every single thing, every corner, every crossroad but finding my way back to square one.
I think I've done what I had to do.
Now I will sit quietly waiting with silent expectation.