Ten years ago, it took a day or two
for head colds to progress from throat to nose.
But owing now to age or maybe new
variety of virus, most a week
of drippy throat besets before I brew
voice-changing clog and heated heavy head.
Right now I feel it all. My point of view
is humble, passive, glad my body chose
today, so when I fly this will be through.
Presented to me several months ago,
I didn’t think I needed them, and yet,
fraternal acts protecting me are so
adorable I stored without regret
the box, and last week other brother set
them up along the path that fronts my gate.
Malfunction two days later didn’t get
a gripe, or make my gratitude abate.
To win the daily challenge solitaire,
I had to make two moves I deemed unwise.
That’s come to be a metaphor for where
direct does not prevail. I think AI’s
grown capable of forecasting all tries
in solo play, but can’t anticipate
when plural play is stupid. That implies
that random could demote or elevate.
It isn’t that I’m ill or feeling bad.
Most things are going well. I’m getting rest
and needs are met, but lately I have had
some incidents online that turned me stressed
to telephone and text, and they’ve compressed
my meditations and deflected me
to staggered inefficiencies at best.
Enough. Today I’ll vary carefully.
“It’s easier to do the work myself
than try to train employees or rely
on others.” You’re no cobbler. There’s no elf
to labor magically while night goes by.
But that path leads to never seeing sky.
Perhaps there are some areas where less
will do, where silver level won’t imply
your best is lost. And thus diminish stress.
My house is cold. A door cannot be closed
that’s been removed today to be restained.
There’s sun but it is colder than supposed.
My comfort can’t be suitably sustained
unless I sit by fireside, red-nosed
and ruddy-cheeked, my temperature maintained
but not my temper. I’m a bit annoyed
this bit of weekend cannot be enjoyed.
Two days a week committed to anoint
my cheeks and brow with cream that has “Renew-
ing” in its name, I wonder what’s the point?
There really isn’t much that one can do
non-surgically, but even so it’s true
I have the time and purchase price, and find
the feel is nice. And biding calmly through
the pause prescribed is good for state of mind.
My days of fullest liberty are two.
On Monday and on Thursday I am free
to pick whatever things I want to do,
without requests from friends or family
or specialists with care for their purview.
And Monday’s nice, but Thursday’s come to be
my favorite, for I’m out the night before,
and so I value Thursday even more.
The stink of magic waterproofing struck
my nose as soon as I walked in the door.
The dark and rain outside meant I was stuck
in ambience unpleasant. To restore
the wall of window doors I’d have to buck
discomfort, I concluded, but the cure
was 40 minutes evening currents: those,
and probably adjustment in my nose.
I’ve grown so ancient I can twist my knee
in bed, alone at 3 a.m., awake
perhaps to turn my head, perhaps to pee,
for probably no reason but the quake
that 7 decades plus has put in me
to catch short dreams and recollections make.
I spread my toes and flex my calf, and bend
a knee that takes too many months to mend.
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