Just outside my office the tinny rasp of rainfall pounds the old metal canopy above the window. The clock over my head pounds the seconds insistently against my wishes. Business is slow during the early hours. It's cool and wet and why slip the blanket when the bed is warm and you've company with which to snuggle.
So, here I sit. I cannot rouse my muse. She is slow to wake which makes my morning, here in the half-light of this office, all the more quiet as the seconds tick my storage of life's calendar.
The steady beat of time, sucks.