A poem.

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i don’t want to get out of bed
and face the cold, foreboding wild
of this sunny spring day.
a walk to a pleasant lake
is just two blocks away
but i need to be sure i look ok.
to be down is to be alone
with nowhere to go but home.

so i waste away behind barred blinds,
my head buried in sand.
i check my email frequently
to see if i still exist,
if only in a broadband.

//wd 2.16.2026

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Original photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com.