A Small Feast

The sun reaches with unseen arms

Across the yard and up the house,

Fingering the patio ceiling as if to

Say, “Look here, you lazy fool, here’s

A web that needs to be brushed away,

And here a crack that should be filled

Before the rot sets in.” I pretend not

Not to see but to not see now, filing

The pointers away in the dustbin of

The million things I should do but

Likely never will. There is more to life

Than cobwebs and rot, and in the end

They win anyway, so I’ll pour another

Glass and watch the bees busy

Themselves pocketing pollen from

The first bloom of sage, something

For all my laziness I’ve brought to the

Table, a small feast but maybe enough.

6/1/2025