poem

 TessellationThe yard has been pointlessly mowedThe flower beds edged And the clippings all baggedThe empty sink gleamsLike polished aristocratic silverAnd, once again, I have needlesslyWiped the lint trap clean.I can ’t help it.There is always somethingTo tidy up, to attend to.You have to.It ’s the only way it makes sense.Putting things back where they belong.Everything changesSo fast. Breaks or expiresHow can I expect to Organize the brokenShards of my lifeInto a tessellationOf interlocking shapes If I can't even sweepUp the smashed piecesOf a dropped black glass?The best I can do with theseFragmented artifacts Is an unsightly mosaicOf overlapping shapes and stylesEverything hinges on the layoutAnd the way the sunlight Catches the obsidian tiles Sometimes it catches them just right3/3/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 3, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs