The story’s afoot
that our trouble is
our finest teacher.
That’s believable
but hard to practice
when you’re in trouble.
Ten days ago, just,
I was in the throes
of yard work when I
quite wittingly stretched
my old bag of bones
to prune a tree limb
and unwittingly
pulled a muscle that
had missed the memo.
The nag needles me
still; try as I will,
it’s taught me nothing.
At first I moaned then
groaned a mite, mostly
to my quiet self.
As the pain increased
I complained aloud
and without ceasing.
Next I tried the odd
muscle relaxer
but got no relief.
So now I do sit,
not for a cure, yet
the grace . . . of the grief.
The drill is, it takes
time for such to heal
through much relaxing.
That takes patience while
remembering . . . how
to do nothing, well.
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