Rush through
No time
Not enough
Bed unmade
Dishes crowding like penitents in sink
Leak of life, drip, soak, drown, reborn in shroud of soap
I carve, a moment cut out of schedule
Feeling small joy of a warm cup in chapped hands
An ache in my neck from bending so often to will of others
And as time passes, I forget, I’ve somewhere to be, something to do
The car idles, books unread, minds untaught
We race our chores
Captivated by the warmth of a cup, as morning light, struts behind blinds still drawn
Just a little
Just a little