i write to her but am not capable of seeing her name so quickly delete her reply

i have these
white countertops
on my boat
and i hate
them.

i go to all sorts of
lengths to try to
keep them
“clean”.

when i grind
coffee
in the
morning,
i lay down
cutting boards
and
paper towels,
in an effort to
catch the
inevitable
errant
coffee
grounds.

but i
never
catch them
all.
and the
white countertop
is always
speckled.

at times
i get
into a
paralysis
about this,
feeling
totally defeated
by my inability
to do even the most
basic of tasks,
so i let
dishes pile up
and don’t even
attempt
to clean the counter.
eventually,
a mighty bout of
motivation
hits me, and
i clean the whole
of my tiny kitchen.

it never takes
very long, and
is never all that much
work.

i’ve always been
a complainer;
i should
complain less.

in this effort,
i find myself
enjoying the presence
of birds
a lot more than
i used to.

this feels like
a loss to me.
and this feels like
a win.

i don’t know that
i really believe
anymore
in “winning” and
“losing”;
we roam around
for a while,
hoping
we have more
pleasure and less
pain.

all of us,
tender and
needy.
Spring shoots
in the last days
of Winter.
trying to
hang around
long enough
to bloom.