So

It won’t be like this for long.
It won’t be like this later.
Shards of mind caught in the skull,

Get caught up in the debate.
Risk not finishing the work,
The chores that have to be done?

Or squander the little while
It’s like this——cool but brilliant,
Shade perfectly positioned

Just outside the house, the birds
About their avian chores
In the purple, green, and gold

Of Russian sage in autumn,
No one knocking on the door.
You don’t believe you’re choosing,

Between tasks that can be done
And life lived as you’d prefer,
But then again, you can’t say

And you don’t know how such choice
Occurs. Somehow you’ll end up
Doing something, and somehow

You’ll pay and reap, probably
Telling yourself at some point
How lucky you are to be

Dying in relative peace
While others suffer so much
And still others suffer more.

The quail nod their bobbled heads
And squeak like creaky doors while
The wrens whistle sweetly, so.