And as for the things I was thinking about,
in the air that feels like spring
while frogs sing in the north pond,
and the list of things to do
is long enough
that whole categories routinely
drop into the void,
and we feel good if there’s one thing
we can check off the list
(though fifteen more creep onto it)

I forget what I was thinking about,
or what leaves me this odd contentment
while the fire has warmed the room
as evening slides towards night
and our moments, while prosaic,
show small signs of the gravitas
of eternity.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2023