One Stone

the silence of Monday:
washing piled
scatter of papers
the grate is cold and empty

outside the late bees are
at the mint - there is
wind as the tree leaves
quiver and the stalks
wave:  presage of rain
light grey sky

heart-quiet and the 
tick of the clock - I must
in-wind, in-gather my
thoughts, achieve
a thing today
out of the vast list:

Rome wasn't built in a day:
move just one stone

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