The gloom settles like low lying fog along the floor of my room. So many reasons to stay in bed but one nagging pinched nerve With lightening across my skull I unlock my phone. Wretched thing it is. Used to open up the news every morning Now I pull up the verse of the day. I try to hold it in my mind in the shower like huddling around a campfire. I blow on those coals I fan the flames I try to get them bright There is a wind at my back A wind that is not my own. Soon it is hard to look into the light In the dark and warmth of the shower.