CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter
I do not think it is
either laziness or
negligence
[two rather unpoetic words
for a poem]
that makes me put it off
It is just that I am so comfortable
here on the sofa
with my still-warm coffee
cup
and tomorrow’s schedule is
not at all
That day called tomorrow
is
free and open, no marks on
the calendar
plenty of time to do it
then
One of the good gifts of
old age, it is,
that unscheduled, open
tomorrow
it would be churlish to
refuse it
[No, “churlish” is a good
word for a poem]
But is it that I am trying
to deny death
thinking that I can delay
it, too,
by putting all these other
“its” off?
A good question, that
needs attention
Soon
But my cup is not yet
empty
and the sofa is still
beneath me
There is plenty of time
to think about that
tomorrow…
John Robert McFarland
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