​I alight from peeling tonight’s carrots
to pruning the hydrangeas
to nailing a new “4” on the door.

In between a stop for some wine
and to pick the next songs.

Little is going on here.
Nothing is leaking, smoking,
going up or falling down.
There are no deadlines or lists.
I do what I want when I want and no more.
Success is assured and doesn’t really matter.

I’m piddling … and I’m so, so happy.
Piddling ranges and changes.
Yet always the “piddle,”
if you’ll let me coin a word,
gives a lot of joy
for a little sweat.
​O.K., time to shine my shoes,
refill my wine,
write this line,
​and find that weed I was gonna pull.