The world in which we live is so big,
take a gander from above you'd get sick.
Yet if you look at the people,
some are so small-minded and feeble,
you'd think we lived at the tip of a stick.
A Chore Worth Doing
Begrudgingly, I tromped down the deck stairs. The clomping of my reluctant feet hit each one as I continued to descend. The sound echoed through the silent Saturday morning air. My resolve to do this began to erode until a cool, soothing wind caressed my cheeks. The serene stillness of this quiet morning wrapped me in an envelope of peacefulness. I sighed in relief. Ready to start my least favourite chore, but knew no one else would do it. I grunted in displeasure as I leaned down and coated my brush in paint, then pressed it to the fence. Finally done procrastinating, I began, and I allowed muscle memory to take over.
By Donna Fox (HKB)about 12 hours ago in Poets
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