These days I’m always
what has been lost
how best to get at what
has been dropped
what is possible to get back,
or hold on to,
what (best) to let go.
Flesh that wiggles more
than it should.
Never sure exactly what
has gotten too difficult
to keep up.
I stare at the soiled runners
on the porch rocker, wondering
how I can get at it to clean.

Can I lift the planter box
after the rain.
Will I be able to get through
the whole of cleaning the porch
exhausting a year ago,
when it seems I was stronger.
Can my pained back bend down
to feed all thirty roses?
Up and down with the hose
so they can have the
slow soak they need.
A different spring,
where I tire easily
and read in the afternoon.
Counting back, trying to
remember, and not wanting to
such recent springs
when I did so much.
Curtains and windows and
Uncertain if this is an
aberration –
a temporary setback
or what has come to be my life.