What Doesn't Get Done

My need to be ironed pile reaches the ceiling.
My stack of papers on my desk extends beyond my outstretched fingers.

Tomorrow I'll attend to everything...after I finish...

—enjoying this space between summer and autumn.

—after I delight in each day that's above average for sun and warmth

—after I read through the four books in my book bag

—after I take walks while the leaves are still hanging on their branches

—after I reconcile to the change of seasons.