Pruning is a tricky piece of work
I never should have perpetrated on
the peony planted by my late father-in-law.
Rash clipping under a pre-autumn sun
precipitated our present disappointment:
a petal-less spring.
When all I ever want to do is jump ahead
I hesitate now in baby steps.
Cherry blossoms invite me into spring
while this electric blanket clings.
Why do the minutes tick forward
as I recline, sink into this repose?
I’ve got bags to unpack
and mail in stacks
and people to write back.
I’ve got lonely shelves
and a weary self.
I open the empty fridge–
gotta feed something to the kids.
I try to trick my biorhythms
but collapse into bodily limits.
Planet Ahead 