The calendar is empty, sight of sights.
Blank pages to be filled but I will not.
Too many days are tied up in a clot
of this or that to do. I might fly kites
or cook lamb stew or maybe sleep a lot.
I’ll watch Olympics, that’s for sure, to see
which swimmers swim the backstroke or the free
in search of gold. And if it gets too hot
I’ll simply praise our air conditioning.
I’m sure I’ll use these days to write some more,
hoping that words will not drain out but pour
like rain that drenches earth in April’s spring.