On this cold morning
The list of that which is yet to be accomplished
Wakes and scolds and blames me
It's Christmas Eve
And there are better ways to rise
(In some other, more perfect world)
O my word
Did I remember curry powder? I need an eggplant!
And when ever will we pack?
There is a departure on Friday
Nine thousand seven hundred forty five miles
Or the better part of two days
This time, I think
This time, we may actually not
Be ready
We may depart in disarray
Bags open or simply
left behind
The tightness increases
I obsess the details
Fawning over worries
Breathe
Breathe
I don't know how the meals will turn out
Or if the cinnamon rolls will get done
I don't know if we'll be ready, come Friday
But, do you know?
Accomplishing the list
Is a poor way to celebrate
On this cold morning
I know there is work to be done
(And that's just fine)
But I disarm the panic
Perfect meals and nicely organized transatlantic moves
Are lovely, I'm sure
But there is a far better reason to rejoice
-lisa, 24 December, 2012
3 comments:
:-)
Yes to disarming the panic!
Beautiful. I look forward to word that you returned safe in TZ. Big love!
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