Here I sit, broken hearted;
Came to write,
Couldn't get started.

I know, it's a paraphrase of an old-time, male locker room rhyme, but it's the best I can do today. Really, as I sit here in a mental fog, that has lasted far too many days, staring at the mist enshrouded river, I complain to my wife D. about this unrelenting fatigue that has insinuated itself into myself. My right brain has been blanketed with a quilt of thick black wool and my left brain limps along on auto-pilot. Coming to my rescue, as she frequently does, D. offered to let me use her recently penned haiku. She remembered my saying something about a 5-7 ratio and she produced this haiku which in it's reversal worked for me and also saved me from a postless poetry Thursday. ;-)
I'll bracket it with pictures from D.'s flower garden.

Tentacles ever creeping
Insidiously
Into our garden of blooms.