A-frame cabins glow.
Awaiting inspiration,
I nap, stare at trees.

Note: I’m not normally a writer who sits around waiting for inspiration. I’m firmly in the camp that showing up is half the work, and that a consistent writing practice builds creative muscle. However, the minute I got here I realized how physically exhausted I was, so I gave myself a couple days to NOT write, trusting I would hear an internal signal when my body had rested enough to begin. And sure enough, this morning I woke up ready to tackle an essay that’s been impossible to wrestle into shape.