Differently

This morning I made the bed with yellow sheets

In perfect sunlight,

Tucking and folding

Without concern.

In the living room

A television commercial announced

The world is changing.

The world is changing

But differently than it said.

 

I heard voices near the garden outside but saw no one.

I listened, trying to understand

The language of growing things.

Now the day skips forward an hour.  Or more.

Everything I have to do

Has already been done,

But must be done again.

The bed neatly made

Without anxious thoughts

Like before, but with a difference.

 

I make a corned beef sandwich for lunch

Like the kind I used to make,

The taste of corned beef

Bringing back sensations familiar

But not quite the same.

 

Who am I, really?

I’m working on that,

All the time.

 

The perfect sunlight has gone.

The sky is grey,

Coated with iron.

In the distance the spruce trees

Whisper like departing guests.

Heaven waits to open

But remains closed,

Sealed inside its mystery,

An unbeaten drum.

There are few sadder words than

“I remember.”

I remember.

But differently.

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