The brittle oak leaves
stick up from the cracks
in the deck,
preparing to compost,
and rot the wood.
An endless task
prying them free,
some say the solution
is wider cracks.
A tacky solution
I think.
That’s how I am,
how I tend to be,
unhappy with the
problem,
and the solution.
Life gets stuck.
I cannot take
action.
All the choices
depress me,
whispering at my back
you’ve tried this
before,
and it didn’t work.
What’s different
now?
I am gray,
but seemingly
not wiser.
At least there’s
no sign of it.
Age has left me tired,
experienced in a way
that does nothing
to uphold confidence,
but only
undermines it.
Everything slowed
to a steady
rot.

3/19/02