The table at the window where I write.
with thanks – again – to the Grassmarket Creative Writing group, still meeting on Zoom, still inspiring.
Being tired is part of being old,
returning to the body
that calls quiet and insistent
Winding down time. Listen.
How do I tell my mind:
Stop now. That curiosity,
motivation, interested involvement
needs to understand its place.
Mind forgets to listen,
tries to keep the cluttered energy.
Actually forgets, so body finds
itself standing lost in the kitchen.
Time for another coffee.
As if caffeine had the gift
to accelerate return to previous identity
hastening instead the bathroom trip.
Forget forgetting, bring on memory,
feel free to be at rest.
Fatigue fears only letting go.
Let calm descend, then all is blest.
A body does what bodies do.
It holds the mind, a tiny part.
Beyond this body feel the earth
deep in wonder. Does it remember, or forget?
Poetry of Moods and Moments 