Top of brain tells me what I should do

But somewhere in the middle something slides askew

The vegetables remain languishing in the fridge

As across the kitchen bench the white bread skids two pieces

Pushed down into the toaster

Two minutes later

Dripping with butter

And marmalade

I munch in satisfying

wonder

Is it impulse

Or habit

My gut brain axis?

Something is loose in my mind

And top of brain

Must go and find it

Nail it down

Pull it into line

Because right now

Somebody isn’t listening

To top of mind

*header photo – a couple of dead sunflowers. Dualism (more likely triplism or more) of the mind. Some days it feels like a war. The creative brain has so many channels open and they don’t all agree – warm toast and marmalade in winter – not great for the hips or the heart but there is a soul to be satisfied, and we are just not in this body with tastebuds all that long to enjoy it. Or that is the argument that was waged over toast as I quietly stared out the window at a gloomy cold morning.