A magnificent afternoon, wind just starting to come up, temp around 85F in Sylvia here. The leaves rustle seductive in the Tormented Elm framed in the narrow doorway.

My mind feels turned-around, a little, not quite grounded, as though one foot of me still stood on the ground of vivid dreamworld I woke from so reluctantly. My dreams of night are sweeter and fuller with every sleep since I move toward full health. It's a blessing.

But this mindframe prevents my concentrating on the page, any page, whether bookstudy or journal.

I keep drifting away ...

A noise of chainsaw - another tormented tree, perhaps. Among the dry weeds here a fawn-colored butterfly flits - blossoming salsify and alfalfa - and a housefly swerves ess-ing around.

But sparrow twitter from neighbors' shrubbery, constant, and whoosh of movement from the highway yonder.