A poem hasn’t completed me
since last season;
I bring an occasional one
to the finish –
so I don’t forget
how many lines are in a stanza,
or to remind myself
the weight of my pencil.
I have to get the leaves moved;
the ones scattered
withered
across the lawn
I have to get them moved
before the snow arrives.
bussokuseki 
Lovely. Thank you –
Amazing. It’s really recognizable for me. Thank you for sharing!
Just discovering old comments I missed. So wonderful you found something recognizable, that means a lot to me. Be well~
thirty minutes a day
to my self
dishes pile up.
I am repeatedly
incompleted.
Feelin’ ya’.
Just discovering some old comments here that I missed…piled, no doubt, under dishes and leaves and now snow… Be well, Johnny~
This poem feels like one long exhale. The last line leaves me breathless.
Wonderful. Just wonderful. Thanks for this.
I’m just discovering some old comments here that I missed. I love your description of a long exhale, how wonderful. I think I wrote it as a sigh… So glad you found something meaningful in the words. Be well~
No turn, and only turning. Be well, Brenda~
Ahhh, the sageness in leaves. I wonder though, why do (the proverbial) we feel we “have to?”
Sometimes “have to” just arises…
Sweet.
Thank you, Charlotte. I hope you are well.
We are well. Thanks. I hope you are doing well. This may inspire my poetry juices to flow… Sometimes it can be tricky.
Which way to turn?
Winds in the autumn leaves,
snow in the pines.
~Nijo Yoshimoto