setting aside the delicates from the sturdy.
it's time to lift the flute to my lips, now parched
from airplane rides and excessive coughing.
it's time to go back to work, resolve the unsolved,
find out what's done, what's not, who showed up,
who didn't, who let the work slide.
I know already.
it's time to get on the scale and weigh the consequences,
to answer calls, to stop and notice that
someone I love is still coughing, wrapped so pitifully in
his small red blanket.
I stop what I am doing and go to
hold his hand.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment