Early in an August day
the air is crisp and fresh,
I am downright energetic,
downright happy.
4 p.m. the house holds
the heat close,
I chug to a stop,
unable to think what to do,
or believe in the things I wanted.
I question my day,
regret its failures
and losses.
The Dali Lama says we should
do that,
examine the day to see how well
we’ve done,
what we want to do better.
4 p.m. I know I’m out of steam,
have failed to live my dream,
still it’s not as bad
as the wee hours of the morning
when I lie awake
and see my life like a bleak movie,
all the characters hopelessly lost,
no way for a happy ending.