Feet dragging,
gathering the dust
of my yard
that I spent so (pause)
so long cleaning.
Labored breathing, (pause)
each breath as ragged
as my clothes
the branches have
ripped to shreds.

The work almost over, (pause)
sweet sanctuary of water,
so tantalizingly close.
The relentless sun
has the sweat dripping
down my back,
soaking my shirt.
It sticks to me,
like a thick syrup. (pause)

Muscles quivering,
I can’t hold the shovel
any longer, (pause) nor the rake,
or any tool laid about
in front of my aching feet.

Even a gnarled, (pause)
old, wooden chair,
has never been
a better haven
than right now.