I make a list of things to do
To get me through the day
But see a field of silent dew
And throw the list away.

The comfort that a list provides
Tops what I like to eat,
But, when it comes to what abides,
The now just can’t be beat.

So, taking off my shoes and socks,
I run around the field,
And, like a horse that’s fled its box,
I’m not about to yield.

I might not get a whole lot done,
And yet I greet the rising sun.

Photo by Anant Chandra on Unsplash

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