Last week, half of kindergarten was absent on Friday. Middle-school hall sounded like the chorus of "Who turned the dogs loose" with all the barking coughs. I see them all–no wonder I’ve needed a day off.
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Sick days are like a hole in reality
When our body is not our own–
When fever lends shade of the surreal
To the most mundane tasks.
Free by clogged sinuses
Hacking cough, swollen glands
From the ordinary round
Of a normal working day.
At home, in the silences
of a residential
bedroom community
All gone to work.
At home, surrounded with the undone tasks
Usually ignored by going to work
Earning the cash needed
To house their essential undoneness.
Yet, too clogged to lie down and sleep
Sitting up is painful.
Motion is accompanied by dizziness
Rest is disdainful.
Yet, a cup of tea
so warm and good
To clear the throat
and ease the pain.
An analgesic for the fever
A quiet moment with a book
A movie at which I’ve not had time to look
Sitting still, just doing nothing.
Time for the body to rest and mend
A cease-fire for the work that does not end.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
