Day 220: A Poem

This day is its own poem
slow to start
and making do
grabbing the first coffee-laden thought
that drifts by
and squish press shaping it
to fit where it is needed
finally moving forward
rolling and tumbling
dragged behind the roiling swarm of
things someone else thinks are important
until the offering of hours is high and gleaming
then, ropes cut,
sliding slowly
to the comfortable and familiar
and rest at the end


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