Making Hay (Day 471)

The body, befuddled, like a child,

does what it must, strains 

for language, listens to upsetting 

news, lifts and moves amidst clouds 

of dust and veils of heat, fog-filled 

head and unused muscles kicking 

in, as if they haven’t wasted most 

of the past year in bed. It works, 
sweats, bends, groans until 
it does not. Then, at home, at rest, 
an aftermath: poppy-resistant pain, 

sleepless, lingering hours spent 

prone, thirsty, hungry, longing for 

an unmanageable shower, listening 

to this befuddled body taking 

one

single 
breath

In.      

Out.

after another.

And the sun comes up. 
And it’s time

to drink coffee 
and try to do it all

over again. 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: VViktor/Pixabay