Turbulence

A wild night tucked-up riding a storm in my bed. Late digested cheese and crackers are crumbs in my head that now tumble like rocks in a landslide. Spumy sprays of dawn crash upon my toss and turn, pillows billowing on the floor a poignant jetsam stark signs of turbulent times. The dog needs to go out to do his thing. Standing at the decking swaying wearily I sense a roaring, a sea-sickness rolling over bare cold toes. And me only 400 miles from the sea! I need a handrail for my mind or a strong cup of tea - maybe some dry crackers.