Burrow: Back to the Barn

So many things
I’d like to do,
And so much else
I have to do;
I’m back in that mess
I guess.

From replacing mattresses
To upgrading computers;
Repairing clothes (to make my budget stretch),
To baking forgotten delicacies,
To tax returns,
And miscellaneous housekeeping chores . . .

My mind is always
Running ahead of my hands.
It’s continuous effort around here,
And yet my restlessness never stops.

The ox plods onward,
Until fatigue knocks it down again.
Then the yoke flies off,
And it’s out to pasture to rest for a time,
But all too soon,
It’s back to pulling the plough once more.

But enough of this pastoral metaphor,
For here it’s cityscapes and urban scenes,
A shoe box in the sky is what I live in.
I’d love to sleep in greener spaces,
But this is the place I’m currently stabled.

It’s been so long since
I’ve been out of the city
That I wonder if I’d even fit in
With my country cousins,
Though I still miss them anyway.

And so, meanwhile, it’s back to work, back to work
Until . . . whenever.