I’ve lost some friends, I said when I replied.
(The question was who do I hang with now).
Some moved away, retired, and reside
in states I seldom visit. Others bow
to an infirmity and don’t abide
activity. The saddest have lost how
to think or even try to recollect,
a form of amputated intellect.
I heard the wind blow hard all through the night,
and up before the sun I hear it still.
I checked the weather app, and clocked the sight
of “feels like 24″ from gale-caused chill.
I hesitate to venture out, but right
across the deck await the tools that will
enable morning post on balanced seat.
I’ll dash on tree debris to start the heat.
At 4 a.m. I stirred and sensed the sting
of musk from neighbor skunks invade my sleep.
I saw the pair at 7 and, next thing
I knew, the reek again began to seep
into my cottage. I don’t try to keep
the creatures off – they’re peaceful and sincere,
preferred to others, but it’s thick and deep
today I’ll need to light aroma here.
A week ago, an easy week commenced.
Except for Tuesday, nothing filled my plate.
I felt no claims I’d rather have dispensed
with: nothing asked of me that couldn’t wait.
I might have learned how to procrastinate,
but I don’t have the patience to delay.
My jones for self-esteem won’t let me wait.
I lasted but two days in slack array.
If I assumed this posture every night,
my knees might lock; my power bill might soar.
But after being out since noon, the sight
of hearth and feel of warmth are goodness more
than candy, presents, even candlelight.
I gaze at hand-knit socks, and in my core
I murmur thanks and couch them in this poem,
positioned after commerce soft at home.
Attention to some inattention now
becomes a treatment I prescribe today.
The recent past implies I’m losing how
to survey home before I go away.
Appliance on, a bolt unthrown, convey
the message reinforced to some degrees
that though at large I’m managing okay,
I have to look too long to find my keys.
We saw the tented house across the street
three days ago, when heading with a friend
to lunch. The draping figures in defeat
of residential insects. To defend
one’s home from infestation’s now complete
disruption; human dwellers must contend
at distance, while they let a toxin catch.
Today I note the silvergrassy match.
It doesn’t rise to OCD, to check
again that tasks, on leaving home, are done.
I never left an iron on, to wreck
my place, but every now and then I’ll run
back to find power use or, what the heck,
a door unlocked? So most the time there’s none
amiss, but yesterday I let transpire
two hours out with heater still afire.
The office afternoon today is all
my calendar’s recording for this week.
The uncommitted hours form a sprawl
like downy carpeting toward what I seek.
I’ve half a dozen days, to overhaul
precisely nothing. Maybe I’ll bespeak
a gentle outline for the coming year,
to help me blaze a novel habit here.
My dream was cinematic Thursday night.
It showed at least a middle and an end.
Protagonistically, I did all right,
and as I dawned awake I caught a trend.
I’d paused in dream to give time passing might.
I leaned to learn, commenced to comprehend
I needed young a softer attitude.
If he’d survived, I’d give him gratitude.
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