One thing I looked forward to in retirement was an untainted calendar, rows of empty days to be filled however I wished. Retired folks I knew told me they were “busier than ever,” but how was that even possible? It sounded ridiculous but it has turned out to be true. Age muscles in, bearing its own agenda.
The following poem is an OTTAVA RIMA, which is, for all intents and purposes, a miniature sonnet. In case you are busy (like me) and don’t have time to write a full-length one. Thanks, Muri, for taking it easy on us (a little) as your Poetry Month Challenge winds down.
AS BUSY AS EVER
On Mondays, weekly shots for allergies
On Tuesdays, chiropractic for my back
On Wednesday mornings, I must do PT
because I threw my shoulder out of whack
On Thursdays, social worker sees hubby
The calendar’s perpetually jam-packed
But Fridays stay reserved in all this mess,
for therapy to reckon with the stress