I will not write today

Well after this I will not

I will not worry about the budget

Or fill imaginary carts with imaginary items

I will not clean

Or cook

Or cry

I shall lay here in my nest of cozy solitude with no ambitions

And notice the patch of blue outside my window crisscrossed, by the pattern of trunkless branches

Watch the sunlight spill through the window in stripy rays

I see dust motes float with no direction

I wonder where they might finally land

They will not be cleaned today