The grass is cut.
The weeds are whacked.
A week’s worth of refuse collected
and delivered to the dump.
A small car repair or two, completed.
A round of bills paid.
Groceries bought and put away,
enough at least, for another day.
The cat is fed, not that she needs it.
The old Isuzu Trooper has been emptied
of the art show that was rained out, and
re-installed in the studio groaning with stuff.
A bit of writing for a client checked for errors.
I found quite a few.
The desk is almost clean.
A sermon written. Well, I think, but lacking in inspiration,
so an extra prayer sent up, this one for me.
The yard furniture is set back in place around the fire pit.
Part of me wants to sit by the fire tonight.
Part of me just wants to go upstairs and take a bath.
Undone things that could wait, all of them,
but only for so long
before you sacrifice a day
to the undone, hopefully just before
they swallow you whole,
a strange kind of Jonah
who preaches what he almost practices,
About this poem
I am always telling people to take time for themselves. I think it’s essential to our mental, emotional and spiritual health. But I haven’t done well this week, and particularly, today.
That’s the way it works sometimes.
Because someone will ask – yes that is my lawnmower. Yes, it is really old. It’s amazing what routine maintenance can do.