When Nothing Appears To Change

This spate of ennui

disables me for days,

or weeks sometimes more

I fight back with physical activity;

digging holes through rock

masquerading as clay and soil

hope luring me to plant

seeds for a new day

There are days when

all seems to be folly

observed by rabbits laughing

enjoying the sight,

as they tuck their bibs in expectantly

they don’t sense my futility.

They watch on as I continue digging,

reminding myself that for more

than 20 years I’ve been here

many times before and it will pass.

Attempting to be useful where there be no

reason to suppose one can ever be useful,

as the years of toil, in this allotment

becomes my definition of hope.

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