I've been in the zone over here.
I think it's the change in weather.
We're finally waking up to cool mornings and the birds have been singing along in breezy tones all the way up until lunch.

Fall in the desert is one of the most glorious of all times and I catch myself with my head tilted up, drinking in the sun like I never would in the dead of summer. Falling shimmers of peeking light across my softly closed eyes. A lift in my spirit. The breeze playing in between my fingertips and off onto its next destination. And then through again. Another breeze to follow. Leaves chiming in papery poetry, and the only time of year where I think, "Well isn't this weather perfect."

I sit, in the morning, coffee in my mug, pen in hand, still in the comfort of pajamas.. and I zone out.
I write down the collections of my mind from the night prior.
I run from those ideas.
I jot a new thought.
Skipping back a few pages, collecting pieces and parts, adding them to something different.
There's a curling wave over me when I'm here. 
Cross legged on the couch.
Scribbling and scratching.
It hurdles over me and hovers like a humming bird.
It holds still and protects me as I put down every line of ink of my next vision.
And then it crashes in silence as I sit and ponder if I've found the right thought.
Another collects.

My heart is so so ready.
This is my dream.
And so my sketchbook becomes a bible.
What I hold true to.
What is in me.
What will move me.
What will make me prosper.
What I have to offer.

And so I'm here.
Ready to follow the path of my pen.