Long-Ass Days

Long-ass days
as my father
used to call them,

days full of
graceful sunclouds
boiling tears
serving others
and undeserved laughter,

and every night
I lay myself down
to recharge my batteries,
but as with
all batteries
as they age,
my batteries aren’t
holding their
charge so long.

So
in between
the morning alarm
and the last
consciousness
there is so much
to do –
more than can be done
or even listed
in a day.

So, it’s not a
complaint
but rather just a note
of gratitude
for the privilege
of another
long-ass day,
as my supply
of them
sadly and
predictably
dwindles.



Now,
to add to my exhaustion
I must post this poem
before
midnight.