Increasing strain I missed the train today,
retarded by disabled folk on stairs.
The escalator, still, would not convey,
awaiting more unscheduled repairs.
It didn’t work to cut the time so tight,
and now I ride a hopeful Fremont train.
I’m trying to remind me that it’s quite
enough to revel in the morning rain.

I’m old enough to understand the tide.
I needn’t rush around; no urgency
is stronger than my justified demand
to relish and remember. Satisfied
by nothing less than everything I see,
I’m taking in and noting all, by hand.