The Duty

I keep dropping things
Shallow breaths and shaky arms
     my time is running out
Soon I face my crisis
I’m sipping beer to bring the tension 
     down to a simmer
All day I have been
     preparing for the crisis
I spent the morning searching in the fog,
     to no avail
But after Noon the fog lifted
     and I found my main course
Four hours later
     I added two more
Now I’m working on a strategy
     but time is running out 
My pulse quickens
     I can’t think
In less than an hour
     I should have dinner on the table
Yes, that is my daily crisis
     Blessed are the leftover days!

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