I make French Toast
I make yogurt
I crank up the wood oven to bake last night’s potatoes
I make tea
I drink it and steep it again
I write a few sentences, check the yogurt
I put clean dishes away
Maybe I will wash the dirty dishes now
Or I could take the dogs out
Perhaps I’ll sweep the floor
I have to go pee again.
Soon, though, everything else is done
And all that’s left to do
Is write.
One word at a time.
It’s the only way.
I know how.