The sky this morning leaks upon the ground,
extending chilly dampness down to me,
implying nature woke and looked and frowned:
Now that’s a cheap pathetic fallacy.

The matter isn’t fog – what irritates
are puppies whining, clients wanting work,
my son complaining, girlfriends seeking mates,
and lack of progress losing weight or murk.

But I won’t waste today. I’ll let it be
(as if I had a choice!) and do my chores,
use speech and thought and time as therapy,
and let the battles go, to win the wars.

I’ll slow my respiration till I feel
the blessings testy attitudes conceal.