7 days.
I wish I could conjure my every whim but would then boredom set in – after a time I surmise, would I want a clear blue sky every day? or would I miss the rain? how many blazing beach sun days in a row could I go? or would I miss the snow, the enviable snuggle of an old quilt and hot cocoa? would the tree leaves forever be green, I would leave some evergreen but would trigger a fall into colors that match the dawn, and then perhaps to see those branches bare, to see buds appear and grow into all fair shades of green again, and some days I might like to lie in-between the snow and sun, a harvest moon’s mission or the blooming march of tulips across the lawn, maybe I might even miss the roar of a thunder shower with powerful drops parading on the roof, drains over pouring like personal waterfalls, new rivers coursing through the streets, washing away the sweat and grime of the modern pavement mongers, temporary public pools with no dues forming for all the not so wildlife that calls my near home home, bird-s a bath, doe-s a nose, might I think to cycle through these things in some semblance of order, to create some semblance of order, some semblance of anticipation, some semblance of wonder – and create…

notes… if you might imagine… if you could imagine everything you wanted… all the time… where would that road take you?

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