The grandkid's upstairs, yowling like a cat. She doesn't want to sleep.
This isn't what I'd planned to deal with when I rose from bed this
Morning. Maybe I would pay some bills, or take some garbage
To the dump, write a poem, take a walk among the brightly colored
Trees. Who knows what I would have done? It doesn't matter now,
Though, does it? What I get to do is hear that child upstairs yowl.