The writing today was done at home amidst workers taking bedrooms apart and painting, coming through and around the living room.
The poem needs little explanation, methinks. As usual, the last line is the clincher, but each line touts its own moral lesson.
This year, I’ll probably do some major reshuffling on my writing lists, unless some growth takes place. But I do so hate to kill off stuff. Mercy may require taking the knife in hand, in order to avoid playing the fool and getting slapped (poem reference there).