Okay, so the struggle and the fight against myself continues, but the good "I" is gaining the upper, pro-active hand. And most of my procrastination is of the positive kind (I first wrote "sign"; I wonder what that really means) as I am cleaning up my downloads files and my iTunes; it does feel good to get that organized, even if it is not mission critical which is to keep my apartment.
Meanwhile, I stopped for a moment to read the daily poem from the Academy of American Poets and felt the need to immediately share it:
by Rose McLarney
Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.
Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.
You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are apples.
I am expecting apples soon.