Hazy Day

August 2, 2018

Somedays, every now and again, you just have to give in…

Hazy day.

Chores are done.

The air is heavy.

My eyes are droopy, my belly is hungry.  

I think I’ll go find something to eat.

Hazy day.

A sigh escapes me as the barn calls me.

Always something that should be done.

Must I work today?

Hazy day.

The long grass brushes against my boots, the dew still clinging, wet.

Cicada’s hum, no song birds flitting in the sky.

My heart feels flat, my legs feel heavy.

Hazy day.

I plod.  Slosh, slosh to the barnyard I go, I should.  

Hands on hips I half heartedly look around.  

Bugs are hanging.

Wash the buckets, paint the fence, check the calves at two.

And the weeds are laughing…is it time to go in yet?

Hazy day.

Wring the water out of the air.

My list of to-do’s keeps growing, oh sigh.

My hair is damp, my clothes feel sticky.

No breeze is moving, mildew lurking.

Hazy day.

The sky is gray, no sun in sight.

I turn back.  

I think that I will just go take a rest.

Thunder rumbles…far, far in the distance.

Turn on the fan, relieve the body, lighten my soul…

                                                       …and sigh.

Hazy day.

“After all, tomorrow is another day!”

Scarlett O’Hara