Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-pick axe March 14, 2016

I am a pick axe.

I grimly focus on the patch of ground

in front of me, and chip, chip, chip away

at the rocks that block my way.

I will wear down this mountain

day by day.

I will find a seam and harvest value.

Today, it may seem too hard to do,

but I will chip, chip, chip away anyway

until I’ve made a hill of this mountain,

and have found the other side..

.

.

.

I’m smack in the middle of my penultimate grad school course.  I’m finding it hard to concentrate, what with the recent family deaths and illness and related stress.  After a long day at work, I just want to curl up in a warm corner and snooze. This is a required course, so there’s nothing for it but chipping away at readings, chipping away at assignments, chipping away at papers, and then it’ll be over.  One month until the last paper is due, and then it’s through!  The end is nigh!

 

 

 

 

 

 
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