White pills for a sore shoulder
Or for pacing the house holding a psychological
boulder
Completing the circuit needed for the days
to become shorter
To make the engine run warmer
Temporarily corral a thought disorder
Get my music and poetry in some semblance
of order
To corner my physicality running ever colder
Catching the brief odor of Autumn Sugar Pines
To traipse amid the evergreen giants alone
Anything to hang on* ...