Sputterpub's Blog

It’s not that I’m still tired when I wake,
and wheel my feet to floor and head to rise.
But often I’m inclined to take a break
from any wonted form of exercise.
I feel a little impulse to rebel
against the claim of bike or yoga pose.
For more than moments I resist. I tell
myself I need a rest, from crown to toes.

It’s not the pot of coffee that debates
my dawn decision, nor computer news
or puzzles solved. There’s something in my head
that gently makes suggestion, intimates
I’ll like to energize and goose my views.
I leave my seat and start to move instead.

The only friend who reads these posts won’t mind
I’m writing how I’m glad she cancelled lunch.
I’ve traveled, worked and visited. I’m kind
of burned-out interacting. I’ve a hunch
I’ll heal at home in solitude, inclined
to read and rest and stretch and do a crunch
or balance pose, for all the good I seek,
and mention here, “I’ll see you, friend, next week.”

(Ottava Rima)