(I’m not a poet, but I see lines of words that flow.
Some call it dyslectic writing. I simply call it prose.)
It’s been hard these several days.
Bones, they are oh so weary.
The back and knees are stressed, near breaking?
No. Not yet. But my, oh my, I sure do feel it.
Dear Lord, how I hate the sweat.
Don’t forget, hydrate, hydrate, and hydrate some more
Feel the burn? There just went some more!
Hydrate again, ah! It’s better now!
There’s something good about being tired.
It’s the joy of knowing you still can.
Can what? You may ask. Oh, at least I can still move.
Climbing the tractor, hauling the loads
Nailing, lifting, digging, stretching, and bending.
But there’s that smile I feel in the midst.
A good day spent, tired, now an afternoon of rest,
Then a good ball game to enjoy. It feels like Youth!
It’s not just the doing, but it’s also the being.
With family, friends, strangers, and who knows who.
Learning to share time with those you’ve known for years
Even all their lives, or at least 50 years.
There’s a comfort that brings the smile,
Even when bone-weary and tired.
Find the music that brings peace and joy.
Feel that tired as it melts away like ice facing the heat.
Sizzle, slips, disappears, quickly it becomes like mist.
But, oh, the tiredness will indeed someday be gone
As you balance the day, ups and downs, energy, then none.
Excellent rest is ahead. It’s time to sleep tight.