A dozen things come swirling from my head as I stumble out of dreamy bliss.
The comfort of darkness and warmth gives way to pressing demands at work. Small hours, all hours, pressing, pushing, like a river to the sea, always flowing, non-stop.
In the middle my kids, our lives together, don’t let the strains and pains of work spill in too much, but it does, it must, just a little, always tempered, lest I lose my temper, lean-in to patience and love,
From the top to the bottom all it can be is the best it can be, best intentions to make it right, now at once it should all be done, but can’t,
One thing at a time, all we can ever do, regardless of how many pressing, pulling things there are,
A dozen or a thousand dozen, one thing at a time, this declaration of truth,
Keep coming, striving, driving forward, never straight, but forward, with a dozen things to do, then a dozen more, non-stop.