Cranky, cranky, cranky.
Go Seize Your Own Day
Which day should I seize?
This one? I have too much
to do today, can’t spend
hours looking at clouds,
rolling in dandelions,
testing myself to see
if I like butter. I do.
I know this already. I know
all the things I like, don’t
need to press those
buttons again and again.
I can have wasted days now,
whole weeks of them; I can
line up wasted years,
a long, blank column, if
I want. (Sometimes I do.)
Don’t tell me to seize
any days. Go seize your own,
let me manage mine (or not).
It doesn’t matter if I hoard them
or spend them; the days always
leave me, no matter what
I do.
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I’m finally getting caught up on your earlier poetry posts–such enjoyable writing! I do love the grouchiness of this one. I think I’ve always felt a little bit this way when urged to carpe the diem; thanks for articulating your response so vividly. And “testing myself / to see if I like butter” is marvelous. Cheers!
Thank you, Jennifer! I can be a bit of a crab sometimes, but it’s fun to give those feelings a voice. Thanks for catching up on my catch-up ones.