I just found out I’ll leave my house for days
next month, and move in with my child’s kid.
It’s near a year since I have parted ways
with customary habits. I’ve been bid
to care a little more and close for one
I’ve sheltered and attended to for years.
Of course it will be work, but also fun
(we smile most when no one interferes).
I’ll be away from exercise at home,
my privacy, the bottles on my shelf.
I’ll have to plan ahead to post a poem
(reluctant to suspend the streak I self-
assigned). Although release should have me cheered,
I’ve been so long sequestered, this feels weird.