This post belongs to the day I set out on my retreat. I hope you enjoy it.
This morning,
I, the haste-maker,
made slow;

took time 
to empty my bag,
scour out fluff,
pins and pills, 
tug out
the stiff black base,
caress it with a warmed cloth,
offer it to the sun
before packing anew.
Yet I took time 
not to pack 
the bag
but to place
things with care,
remembering to tuck in
pockets of space
And as I drove west,
before I knew it

 a poem arrived,
like new seed
on the wind.