In This Time

In 90 minutes little has changed.
Quiet and dark in the house,
The birds are now singing that first morning song.
Chirps at once and again break through
The wonderings, wanderings in my head.
Nature's notes get my attention again,
and I want to stay.
There is work to be done, too.
The stillness of the neighborhood and house
Holds me back.
I continue to dwell in this cocoon
Of solitude and limited freedom.
No one needs me now.
I listen again for the birds.
They are faithful.
Ninety minutes of sitting here
has stretched into more than 100.
How much of that time
it took me to still and quiet?
Oh, I would moan or weep at that,
but the life I've allowed
has its demands.
I'm compelled to move about
and do something.
I wonder if,
at day's end,
I will remember these 90 minutes.