The launch

I write. I cycle. I write. I limp. I watch, listen, touch. I study small things. I gnaw on big things. I write more. Endings are difficult. Beginnings are easy. I worry. About sentence structures. Rhythm. Climate chaos. I write less. I read. I sit still. I scoop crab shells out of gutterings. I draw sparkling starlings perched on red chimney pots with a finger on steamy glass. Who doesn’t smile at a scooting sanderling?