On Getting Down

    Catching myself dreaming I can
    At least credit those fanciful
    Scenes for the leaden moods
    Of my mornings – but absent
    Recollections, the heavy world
    Is like scraps of paper
    Jessica leaves strewn

    On my study floor.  I grope
    About for whatever’s
    There, raise my head and
    With faulty ears listen
    For something in the trees
    Outside – birds perhaps
    Or just the wind ending

    This unsuccessful introspection.
    I lift some weights, dash
    About the house doing
    Chores, see outside that
    The heavy clouds have yet to
    Lift.  Without meaning to
    I feel better in an hour or two.