Considering
I’ve been feeling old.
The skin on my legs is rough and itching.
I’ve forgotten how to sleep.
I gained back half the weight I’d lost,
stopped walking everywhere.
My right foot aches near the big toe,
even with my cool retro sneakers on.
This morning I sat in my rocking chair
on the porch, eyes closed, hands clasped
over my (too ample) belly,
breathing in and out at a measured pace
as a catbird rasped in the neighbor’s tree.
I do these things mostly out of habit,
pulling meaning from repetition,
from not stopping.
Now a jay is crying
in a different neighbor’s tree
as I sit rocking, eyes open,
hands unclasped,
thinking about the next cup of tea.
/ / /
1 September 2024
Charlottesville VA
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