Ruminations of a Working Man: Here I Sit

Hello, my friend. I’d say it’s been long but it most certainly hasn’t. Mayhaps it’s the Love I have for you that causes every moment without a lifetime in the making. Walking along dingy halls with dusty computer screens and bloodshot eyes all a-dimmed (like aglow, get it?), it makes my blood freeze. In a tin man moment, my joints squeak and squeal in protest with wanderlust as my oil yet contentment as my heartbeat.

Sit beside me awhile, let us look through the spectacles together and see the sunrise through snow-laden boughs. Let us grow ever weary of sitting still. Let us not allow the stale breezes to chill our bones into submission. And yet, let us not be rash or hasty.

The little man is on my desk again, shouting at me with his tiny voice, waving his miniscule hands, vying for my attention. Sitting on my phone receiver so I cannot place nor receive any professional calls. He makes a mess of my sticky notes, spills my morning coffee, and flings my scissors and pens until all my office belongings are strewn across my off-beige desk. Even now, he directs my fingers in their clicking keyboard cacophony.

My muse is a tiny man who visits me at work and ensures I am uncomfortable all the day long, and I cherish him dearly.

So here I sit, desperately trying to not be a poor excuse for a working man.

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Stories From Honduras

Lena Kvigne // Missionary

The Wandering Poet

Footsteps, Footprints and Words

The Holly Tree Tales

Stories and philosophy, borne out of my own experiences of life on three continents.

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