The Mass Scale Of Each Day (Poem)

When I finally step outside my door,

I look up to the sky to see if the clouds lower;

To the ground to see if the ground dampens;

At the wall to see if the moths remain;

At the street to see if the deer travel.

All of these carry weight and fill together one plate of the scale.

Countering these and in the opposite bowl

Are my very particular concerns.

How is the pain that hinders motion;

The sight that diminishes usual activity;

The fog that hazes across thinking;

The mood that renders much complex?

I hang each from the fulcrum of awareness,

Carefully considering their changing measure.

This is what I can do this day.

With acknowledgement that the poise is ever shifting,

I go about my quotidian existence.