Talking to Myself Nine

My son Tim with my hens a few years ago when he was visiting.

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Talking to Myself Nine February 16, 2020

I give myself lectures and reminders.
I write walk! In my appointment book
and sweep. I think I could mend the fence
between the backyard and the garden.
I could plant zinnias and tomatoes, if
nothing else. I could keep the hens in
their run. I could clip their wings so
they wouldn’t fly. Soon I’ll walk at the 
dam again until I do half a mile. I’ll
use my cane and walk heel first.  I
rarely shuffle now. They said I should
be fine, but keep doing my exercises.
Sometimes my left leg hurts when I
first wake up. Then, once I’m moving 
around, that goes away. My small health
problems haven’t returned–only one
small nosebleed. I’m good to go, as
they say. Everything is easier, but 
I am careful not to do too much.
I sleep when I’m sleepy and get up early.
The house is quiet. The bird clock
ticks. I bundle up to stay warm until
Tim gets up and makes a fire. We’re
having a warm winter. The daffodils 
and peepers are shouting “Spring.”
Sometimes our mornings are cold, but
the sun warms me, especially when it 
beats on the back storm door. I live
a slowed down life, and my memory 
sometimes eludes me, but generally I

sleep and eat well, and my days are light.