Making the bed, I pull

the fitted-sheet corner tight,

slide to the next corner,

roll my shoulders. Pause.

 

Not my bed, but I’m

doing my best.

 

One more corner.

 

Out the window, the

garden bustles, bursts with

energy. Stalks bend in the

sea breeze that comes and goes

as the sky pleases.

 

Tonight, I will

sleep in this bed.