That we made the whole journey anti-clockwise
today was a blessing, & although not without th’
anxiety pangs which flame from beggaring pain
in th’ legs, residual expressions of viral anarchy
are inclined to promulgate that sort of treason -
we’ve survived the laboured breathing, & made
the hill-crest with ‘flourish of panache’ you’d’ve
thought the use-by long passed-away
But implying we’re well on the road to recovery
isn’t as rational as it’d seem; th’ milestones are
dreams disguised as apportioned tidbits handy
to a vague rationing plan, a scheme, I think, to
take over th’ whole shebang without an energy
loss reducing potential mortgageability gains
So I’m awaiting the flowering of reason - we’re
not quite yet at th’ threshold of seeing a desire
to walk the walk the old way again or of claims
an immunity is vested in the plan whereby any
motivation for exercise’ll be proportionally paid
dividends to stimulate even greater obduracy
© 12 April 2017, I. D. Carswell
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