Ten-Finger Exercises

Up for another poem?

Transitioning into Retirement

Like a short sit with a cold glass of tea after working hard,
my mind and body are fallow,
muscles slack, mind adrift and headed nowhere.
No seeds planted in my imagination,
No pull from work undone to motivate my feet.
Aware of the breeze, even the stronger wind that builds,
With nothing to protect me from erosion,
Maybe I should be concerned.
But I will only be fallow for a season, resting the earth
To prepare for whatever comes.