These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Hurricane Fatigue

Hurricane fatigue,
the third cup of my day,
anticipate's intrigue,
but after's full dismay.

I'm tired all the time.
I work, and then I rest,
but still the limbs, and grime
add into daily test.

When will it all be o'er.
When will the norm return,
or should I change my core
to newness I must learn?

My coffee cup is waiting here.
Fatigue must give in, and relent.
Just sip the joe through many'a tear.
Sit peaceful in a storied tent.

The nighttime now's a moonlit, tree-filled place.
My warmful joe and breezeless air abate
internal conflict for the God-giv'n grace,
restoring mind, soul, body 'fore too late.

The sipping joy, insipid can ne'er be.
The starry sky of beauteous lights I see.
All hopeful thoughts returning now to me.
Still weary, but to God for rest I flee.

To slow down more the sickening, simpering, surly pace,
let world a-pace fly right on by begone anon,
whilst thee dost sit in corner's waiting, cheery grace
as The One God's blest loving, living, hopeful son.

by Jay O’Toole
on October 16th, 2024