Tasks

July 26th, 2010 by Mark Nepo

There’s the limb that came down in
the last storm. And the peach tree we
want to transplant. And the furnace needs
to be cleaned. And I promised to water the
plants while you’re gone. And I want to buy
you that necklace I saw you linger with when
I was waiting on the sidewalk. You held it
like it reminded you of the strong part of
your heart. I don’t know where to begin.
I keep staring at the maple bowing to the
October wind, its leaves turning inside out.
I think it’s going to rain. I spread the tasks,
even the ones I want to do, spread them
with my silence like a broom brushing
a puddle off the driveway. Mira is curled
under my desk. I ask her if she wants a task,
the way we ask if she wants a treat. Her tail
thumps in her sleep. More tasks like treats
wait at work. Which keep the world going?
Which keep us from ourselves? I’m
coming to like things as they are.

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