The Germ of Complaint

I have it in my mind to complain today -- depressing politics, horrific war, depressing culture. But complaining gets a bit tiresome, or so some say. And it doesn't really accomplish much, or so say others. Nevertheless, the germ of complaint is on the tip of my tongue. Who am I to stop it?

But it won't come out, this tongue-tip urge. Although the thoughts are there, the words won't come together like they usually do.

So in the end, I guess it must just be this way. The germ will have to bide its time.

I suspect I'll get another chance.

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