The Sun Will Still Rise

7.30am on a brisk and fresh Monday morning in Wicklow. Fears crowding my heart space at 5am. Out in the distance, a ship moves across the horizon so slowly it doesn't seem to be moving at all. Sometimes that's how progress feels. Birds sing in the steely early light. Somewhere close by, a pheasant makes its call. I turn through 360 degrees. A world all around me, going its way, oblivious to my fears.

The pheasant calls louder and closer. I remind myself that regardless of what this day brings, the sun will still rise tommorow. I take a deep breath, and face the week