I make lists

                   of things to do

          of things to get

          of people to call, or write, or see

          of appointments to keep

          of promises, unkept,

                   because with miles to go I fall asleep.

When, and why, did I enlist

in the army of those who

make such lists?

                   Lists of too many…

                   Lists of too much…

                   Lists that leave me

                             overwhelmed…

and listless.

          Sitting, unstill, I sigh--

                   too little time,

                   too little energy,

                   too little meaning,

                   too little me.

My restless

          mind urges my hand to grab an envelope

from the mount of

                   unopened,

                   unread,

                   unneeded mail.

I dig for

                   a pen

                   a pencil

                   a crayon

          buried beneath the pile.

I write:

                   Sit.

                   Be still.

                   Do less.

                   Rest.

                   Listen!

          I have decided not to

reenlist.