The Giving Over

To the day, I surrender.

To all that I do not accomplish or that I do accomplish,

I surrender.

To being misunderstood and sometimes understood,

I surrender.

To the heat of summer, and to the splashing cool water,

I surrender.

To the work, I certainly surrender because I find

no other way.

To the dirty laundry, coiled and set to strike,

oh, yes, I surrender.

To retrieval of necessary items that seem lost,

I surrender.

To the ones who train me, I surrender, not grudgingly

(there are exceptions).

To the endless websites, I surrendered long ago.

To these words, I irrevocably surrender,

and to the singing bird who has come to mark

the occasion. Oh, thank you, and to the responding

bird.

To the sudden calm inside because of poetry,

I will, I will surrender.

To being angry when I am scratched, I sigh

and surrender.

To loving you, there was never any question,

and still, I surrender.

To interruptions, frequent and annoying, might

as well surrender.

To books half-read, yes yes I promise.

To knocks on the door, I graciously surrender.

To my doubts and indecisions, did I say I would surrender?

and to the summer solstice, full moon? Yes. Yes. Yes.

Next Chapter: Art in Life