I can explain the hesitation, the distance
between intention and completion
by one word – Parkinson’s.
I don’t know if there is any blame
when I speak to myself.
Or if I accept the randomness
of life and I am a piece of that
evidence while I still see beauty
and grace and love around me
even if I don’t do what I once did
as well or as often. My dreams
have gotten smaller, memories larger,
the moment. . . ambiguous. Its duration
never certain. Long, short, or something
in-between. Sometimes, I wonder what
I might lose on any given day.
Other times, I don’t bother.
Say, “The readiness is all,” as I
look outside like the prayer
it’s always been. Get another cup of coffee.
-Byron Hoot
