Tired. So tired. I thought I would be on the rebound by now. Hard work always used to get easier, and in a way I think it is. I just did some digging in the hot sun without much trouble, but I come in to rest and just want to sink flat. I don't think I could get flat enough; something would still feel tired.
I don't think this comes from the work.
I think it's a head-to-toe heartache.
If only I could put my finger on the why.
My seedlings aren't growing. I know that's not it, but I don't want to look at anything else, or I'll wander off into the dark forest and down the black valley and into the tunneling vortex of despair, and have to wait for the magic of weeping and sleeping to fix it.
Why aren't my seedlings growing?
A poem for today
1 week ago