Before the phone's pull to reality
At about seven hours of sleep
The brain begins to function with out pills
And having tasted something of the wisdom of the world
Decline to quickly rise and face it.
Within the morning stupor between first energy and sleep
An intensity of concentration
I plan the first load of laundry
Like a field marshall moving divisions
Wondering how long they will hold or advance
Against the onslaught of this thing called dirt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Spotless piece of work. It's all in the planning, concentrating on that one job first. You know if you even attempt to multi-task, the quality will suffer. Danny