The Consequence of Sloth

The grass is growing. It has gotten long.
I ought to mow it. Call that one more thing
That I should do that hasn't gotten done.
The bird feeder is out of seeds. An offer
“Too good to ignore” expires before
Midnight, but I've neither envelope nor
Stamp. In truth, if not for gravity, if will
Was all that held me here, I'd surely fly
Off of the earth up into space. I'd suffocate
Or freeze in time, and, as I did, I'd rue not
Doing what I should have done.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 30 times
Written on 2020-04-13 at 18:31

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