I used to crank out pieces of writing so easily. Not so anymore. And that has been for the last year, it would seem. Hmmmm. Covid brain? Covid melancholy? Covid crisis? Covid crazy? Covid covid covid.

Every time I sit down to write, it sits there on my shoulder like a nagging sibling, poking at me, begging me to compose something uplifting, inspiring or even comedic. But always about it. Insisting that it is worthy of all the attention. And, I suppose it has become used to all the focus on it. One cannot read or listen to the news without it grabbing each and every headline.

I was thinking if perhaps I acknowledge this annoying interloper, then I could get onto writing about all else there is in my life. And there are wonderful, whimsical, wacky and even woeful happenings all around me. All worthy of a bit of my contemplation and composition.

So, covid . . . take a back seat in my mind and heart for a time, would you, please?