I am liking today.

Despite being tired, there’s a dark, powerful push that lingers behind the curtains. That’s the best way to describe it, the best I can think of: imagine, if you will, a slowly brewing storm-cloud, a thunderhead-to-be, full of force, slowly becoming something terrible, inexorable, natural.

The ‘portentous storm’ feeling is helped, no doubt, by the grey, wet sky and the chill expectancy that swirls around my naked toes. With the song ‘Closer’ by Kings of Leon pulsing with dark, torn, sexual sobbing out of my speakers, the moment crests to a perfect, precise point, and I look out the back window to see the august silhouette of our resident hawk on top of the telephone pole.

I think it is obvious that good things are on their way, just about to break into the surface of today.