She did not put the coffee on until twelve past twelve.

She ‘got up’ at half seven, but the a.m. sprinklers

Churned themselves from their subterranean domain

They sounded like hard rain.

Her hair was in a state.

She did not get that kettle she kept intending.

One cup at a time. Sensible.

And she liked the noise.

She wrote she five times about herself.

Too much.

Time to take to toes.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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