The morning drill is the same
Find the pans, break the eggs
Put the bacon on the griddle.
All in the right, practiced order
Don’t lose a step
Don’t waste a moment
Out the door by seven-thirty.
It’s still dark and I take a flashlight from a drawer
and shine it on the back-porch thermometer
But putting the flashlight back
I notice a thin paperback book
Someone has pulled this from the attic.
On the cover ARCHERY
And a photograph of two handsome young people
In the sunshine and grass
pulling arrows from that big, round target.
They are not in any hurry
There is no rude chill, no frozen ground, no slick pavement
They are not about to be late
not in danger of forgetting something
that has to go to the office today
Not wondering whether the car will start this morning.
When is spring coming?
When is it that work will lead to something
Other than more work?
When is the day that I will
stand in the sunshine and grass
relaxed and unhurried.