Green tea at my desk,
after I light the candles
and incense.
Push the start button
for the music,
and wait for the computer,
while I gather myself together,
hurried and frazzled
from the tidying up,
sofa pillows back in place,
bed made, dishes washed,
bags of discards out for charity.
Then the shower and shampoo.
Trying to contain the distractions,
to arrive at my work on time.
But I arrive forty-three minutes
late, as though there were traffic
on the freeway.
Sigh and sip, breathe deep.
“I’ve got to get collected,”
my mother used to say.
I know now what she meant.