Feeling sorry for myself. . .

Today is the official last day of my summer holiday.  Sigh.  Huge sigh.

Such Big Plans
© KLarson 2011

 

The dappled days I dreamed of
Six weeks ago, weary from work
From stress and from a winter
So long and cold we despaired
To ever see an end to misery
And snow and wind and lethargy,
Are all gone now.
Scattered like dandelion fluff
On wild winds blowing
Wicked out of the West.

My aspirations of a summer
Spent lounging in a chair, book
And beer always within reach,
Seem, somehow to have hitched
A ride with the constant wind
And gone joy-riding with
High-scudding clouds somewhere
Far beyond my grasp.

There were other plans, too,
For novels and short stories and
Poetry all to be penned and
published.  All it needed
Was a vein to be opened
While days of leisure
Stretched out before me
Immeasurable and vast
and never-ending.

The truth is six weeks
Is barely enough time to squeeze
In obligations left too long.
Friendships, like gardens,
Need tending, and visits with family,
Planned deep in the heart of
Winter when summer
Hovered on the horizon
Like a saviour, take the
Lion’s share of mid-summer days.

So, bedroom walls will remain marred
And splotched, my new deck
A vision.  Sandpaper and caulk
And rust-remover, all still in the bag
I carried them home in, have no
Shelf-life.  I think.  Anyway, they
Will be there, I’m certain,
Next summer, when, like my eyes
My intentions are too big
For such a tiny treasure of a season.

Alberta Summer sky

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