Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

I want to write about this sad feeling in my chest, but I won't
Before that swamped me, I'd noticed a new spiderweb
But it's a spiderweb that engenders an apology 

Allow your mind to drift back to when I made assumptions about how frequently the post box was being emptied (memorable poem)

Now flash forward to now, bin day
Fact: the bins are put out the night before
Premise: one bin at a time, then placed side by side
Surmisation: spiders weave webs to connect bins overnight

My assumption that the post box wasn't being emptied daily was in part supported by an uninterrupted web, viewed in the morning. No efforts were made to ensure this was indeed the same web (on the basis of size, shape or collection of debris). 

Whilst post is infrequent and the 'your next collection' day plate is regularly out of sync; I believe without the spider web evidence I should issue an apology. I won't, that would be weirder than writing this.

Let's check - am I still feeling sad?
Not so much, I'm eating muesli and drinking a cup of tea. I could get right back to feeling sad, but it's more a choice now - so let's not. Plus I just saw someone use the word 'auspices' in an email and I'm impressed enough to award them wordsmith of the week (an award I just made up)

 distract from sadness
sometimes it doesn't chase you
if you walk away

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