Sunday morning’s rather soggy dawn
opens
as
light little yips for
help
from an aging dog
knowing perhaps who
will respond
I am up
where soft whimpers
are actually less about help
and more
for shared company
we begin
strict orders and the very real need for
convalescence
sounds kind of heavenly to some
but by day two
has mostly worn off
little outward signs to go by
I suppose
when repairs have been
internal
touch softly, the grey blue bruise
on my hand
not quite realizing how difficult it can be
to
NOT
bend
thinking it a necessary thing
small pockets of
self-pity
in consciously caring for oneself
wondering though in early morning lack
of light
if as a woman, a mother, a wife
one has done a rotten job
of demonstrating
care
though keeping front of mind
that one must not
under any circumstances
give in to tears
while sinuses are compromised
wonder too,
when
and if
smell and taste will return
reading glasses that do not rest
comfortably
on tender places
(cue self-pitying sigh… comic relief)
where soft whimpers
are actually less about help
and more
for shared company
out the window January raindrops are
slow
while one small leaf on the crabapple
almost timidly, or is it
triumphantly
waves
gaze up at the simple beauty of
a haphazard bookshelf
a small cat
and some dust
sink into good words
and love ♥
May you be well, my friends
May you be ease and comfort
May you whimper some, when needed
and always
May you sit with yourself
softly
in loving kindness -^-