Today’s a tired day. I must admit
I’m feeling every decade of my age.
And that’s okay – in fact, appropriate,
for I have overdone by any gauge:
at first in travel far beyond my nest,
and then in catching tasks that I put off
to go. Today I’m home and plan to rest,
and read, and smoke enough I have to cough.

The weather suits: May gray and vernal chill.
I’ve earned fatigue – it’s not from grief or stress.
I don’t need underwear or shoes – I will
increase my sitting time and hurry less,
with nothing but my Kindle on my lap,
and nothing on my mind but when to nap.