Things I Could Do This Morning

 

I could hose the thick dust off the car,

or sweep the fallen blossoms from the path.

I could walk into town and purchase 

the things on my list. Or drive to the beach

and jockey with the thousand tourists

for parking and space.

I could vacuum under the bed

and polish the bathroom. Or dust,

as, with windows flung wide,

the dust is everywhere.

Instead, I will sit in the sun,

stunned by torpor, like a

pollen-drunk bee, and watch

the last of the blossoms fall down

from these two old
and beautiful
trees.