So it was 109 degrees in Lawrence yesterday and we were out in the sticky, soupy air, moving heavy boxes, horribly awkward mattresses, hefty couches and chairs, and what all, up and down stairs, lifting, pulling, pushing, crawling up and down from the pick-up bed and all the while, sweating like fountains. And one of us was a 76-year-old man! Bob is amazing!Today, we’ll pay with sore muscles, aching backs and popping joints, and an incredible lack of energy. Let’s just be lethargic and enjoy our age today!
Jessica and her roommate, on the other hand, will be repeating yesterday all over again, as they still have more to move; but she is young…
and we are not.
Below is a poem I wrote just the other day, so it has not yet been worked over with revisions (other than some very small revisions this morning.) Most of the poems I’ve put on this blog are older poems which have been revised several times. Revision is a necessary part of any kind of writing, I suppose – except this blog which serves more as a “public diary”!
Anyway, here’s a simple little poem, “rough” if not ready!
Saturday Summer Morning
What I should be doing is walking
the three-mile route I walk on the days
I can get started easily.
But this morning is not one of those days.
Today, the sun reaches
over the house across the alley
through the lace of leaves on our cottonwood,
touching the top of the gazebo. An invitation
to sit beneath its roof and breathe
the air as it smells only on an early morning in July.
Before the heat takes hold and strips away
the saving breeze, and takes the day as hostage.
1 comment:
Chris and I worked all day long moving boxes from storage in 100+ weather this whole week... and guess what?! Once we were finally done with the hard moving, it rained overnight and cooled down to 88 degrees. Isn't that just how it goes?
Chris and I appreciated both your help so much! Thanks again!
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