I notice
it is my choice
if I am wimpy,
if I say, mixing concrete
is too much for me,
or at least, I sure dislike it —
the heaviness, the dust,
the scritchy sound,
the muddy mess of cleanup

If I say so, I will be weak
at the prospect of moving the bags,
I will express my distaste,
my visage will be sour

I may become emotional
and tell myself I’m played out,
and tell myself I just need to go home

But if I do that,
it is my choice. If I prefer,
I can choose strength and sunniness,
and growing capabilities.
Something to remember,
something to put to use.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 16, 2018