hmm,
long calendar.
not very many
empty
squares.
The blank ones
are like gasps
of
air
between
deeply held
breaths.

You are busy this year,
I think,
my hands lifting
page after page.
I am
peeking into
the
Void,
overcome,
but
reawakening
with every
little
white
square
moment.

It is a mess.
Planned to the day.
A buzzing swallows
all of the sound around me.
Gooseflesh arms.
Expectation battles with
doubt in the roiling furnace
of my guts.
Too much, too much.

Looking
away,
I hear pages lightly
slap
the wall.
Goodbye long calendar.

I am off to fill the spaces
in my days
the old-fashioned way.